The Creative Writing Thread (All writers come all!)

[LeoXiao]

I translated a German story (of questionable quality) of mine into English and edited it.

Here it is:

Spoiler for Story:

THE ENLISTED (DIE ANGEWORBENE)

A regiment of conscripts camped in the frozen hills. Drought and stillness lay over the land. Only the wind from the north blew constant, without break. A couple ominous clouds dotted the night sky. In the distance stood a great fortress, visible only by grace of the moon’s light. The new soldiers slept restlessly, without comfort. Those who did not sleep stood in the surroundings on watch duty, silent in solitude.

One of these lurked yawning in the curves of a rocky embankment. He shook from cold, his issued overcoat not able to sufficiently retain warmth. He dared not lay hands on his rifle; for without gloves, his hands would, with dreadful results stick to the cold metal.

He wanted to sleep, so he thought, but such an act could drive him to death. Periodically he moved his arms and legs, so that life would not disappear from his limbs. Finally came his eyelids slowly to a close.

The man appeared out of the shadows. The soldier could not tell, how long he remained in his sleep, but instantly, as he detected the particularities of the footsteps, sprang back to life to acknowledge the approaching officer. He found himself hard pressed, even with bare hands to grip his freezing rifle in salute. As the man noticed it, he gave a fatherly smile and said:

"Today it’s still possible to gaze upon the stars.”

The solider remained silent. Only his teeth shook lightly.

“We can see almost all the constellations tonight. Isn’t it nice? Perhaps by tomorrow they’ll be gone.”

The soldier wanted to say something, but suddenly the man came very close. Out of the officer’s greatcoat he produced a scarf. Only then did the soldier feel a truly unbearable coldness. He whispered cautiously to the calm man that he was so cold, that he had been shivering in the night for such a long time, that he needed this scarf…

The man draped the scarf about the soldier; now loomed his shadow over him.

“From this distance, everything looks clear?” Now the soldier stared intently at the endless heavens. He felt a sudden, deep relaxation, as though he had never in his life recognized pain.

But then, in the next instant, he discerned it. Now he fell in complete agony. How long it was, that he had lay in suffering! How delicate, how ephemeral happiness was! He now glanced upon the distant fortress and thought: how small it was! Everywhere was moonlight.

“Everywhere are stars. Without them we cannot see, as the Sun is also a star.” The soldier knew no longer, what sort of sentiment it was that occupied him. In the desolation, in the presence of the stars, the cold, the moon, this man, joy and suffering seemed simultaneously bent on overwhelming his shaking soul.

The man disappeared. The next day, the draftees went unknowingly as cannon fodder into battle. They marched up the height and fought. There, everyone became beasts. The soldier charged senselessly forward into doom, together with the full horde. He armed a grenade and, though this last act was meant with all his might, plunged a bullet everything into unbecoming ruin.


As the first snow later covered the corpses, it was generally recognized that the battle was a great success. The feint-maneuver, planned directly in the fortress under the magnificent moonlight, stood out as a fine example of warplanning.

I'm glad I rewrote this; I liked the idea but I couldn't quite do it right when writing the German original.


_

[The Master]

Hi, just found this thread so I thought I would add to it. I tend to spend most of my spare time writing or drawing, so if it makes no sense its because do not normally do fantasy stories, usually whatever I write ends up sci-fi/comedy

Brother Joanas swept his matted black hair away from his eyes as he assessed the room for traps. It had been a long and dangerous journey to the tower of salvation, a journey which had taught him the prudence of caution. The holy order had known of many of the dangers they were to face and had equipped them well but had been many years since the order had undertaken a mission of this scale beyond the borders of civilisation and so they had not known of the dark creatures that now roamed the world.

The orders Grandmaster had decreed the quest necessary after receiving a revelation telling him to gather the lost artifacts and those that were stored in safe places to protect them from the northern Empire. None within the order had questioned the Grandmasters wisdom as he had guided them for many years and had led in the conversion of the heathen peoples of the southern continent who had still clung to the old ways, by the book or by the sword. The order was a militant one and so had no qualms in beginning the quest for the artifacts or in dealing with the Empires agents who were also seeking them.

Joanas and Calbert had been assigned the mission of finding the sacred chalice which now stood on the pedestal before them. If Joanas had believed the religious iconography often depicted in the holy churches he would have expected a bejewelled chalice wrought in gold. Yet been a practical man he was not surprised to find a simple wooden cup. He had been taught as had many of the order who knew of the inner secrets that the physical manifestation of the holy relics mattered little it was the spiritual significance bestowed upon them that truly gave them power. As he removed the cup Calbert prepared the transport vessel for it for time was of the haste night would soon fall and they wished to be as far from the ruins as possible by the time night fell.

[SuperSaiyanOver9000]

I write for the fun of it
I've written a lot of stories, one is gonna be a graphic novel
based on a novel I already wrote (which is much more violent)

[Mystique]

Yo, haven’t been here for a while, so figured to do my bi annual (maybe) review of original fiction for those who have kindly submitted here.
As mentioned, I only check out original fiction, so for the poets and fanfiction writers, pardon me skipping over your posts for review, although I have read a few of them in here.
Peeps are generally good with the feedback, so I’m sure any kind of work would be supported here in some form.

Okay, skipping back to April, first off is Whitepearl’s ‘The Princess and the Castle’
For someone who tossed this up off the top of his head while struggling with another story, I say you should have more writers blocks often

Spoiler for stuffs:

Given the deceptive title, a heads up about the profanity was appreciated. You also have a talent for swearing, I can’t help but wonder if you often pepper your vocabulary with as much profanity as your characters do in here.

Composition and flow:
Aside from a few editorial points with conjunctions, it was written very, very well. The characters bitter humour flowed through his prose, good use of similes and metaphors to emphasise his general dislike and negativity of things.
I didn’t have any love for Franklin (meaning he was written pretty well) and yet, I found him somewhat pitiful when he met his ‘princess’ who’s just plain rude and I assume, spoilt.
Whether you’d put a ‘taming of the shrew’ take on this to have our dear hero try to tame this vile wench would be interesting. However my only concern would be to tame down the profanity should the two main characters have verbal bouts further down the story. That’d mean using sarcasm, irony and wit at your disposal where profanities are restricted, it can be a fun exercise in itself for a writer

Aside from that, good short story. ^^

Originally Posted by Amray

The time has come! I have finally started writing my first novel, a dystopian thriller. Now it is time for the two, or so, years of planning to be placed into words.

I must say that it is quite amazing to see all of my story and well-thought plans being put into words right in front of me. Proof-reading is the only, somewhat, difficult thing to do but that is not too bad. I started the story off with no problems as I finally knew how I wanted to start it, which was quite difficult to suggest. The story as I planned it is quite long so I am aiming for, roughly, 850 pages.

Hopefully it will be placed on shelves in a few years. One can hope.

Good luck with that indeed, here’s hoping for the best. ^^

Next is Usuratonkachi’s prologue.

Here's a prologue of a new story. I'm not going to write a summary or anything. I just want to know what you think and what sort of ideas you get by reading this.

I guess they just wanted some feedback as you mentioned, so here’s my two pence.

Spoiler for stuffs:

First off, amazing poetical description to the opening scene. The hope and promise of spring and hanami to come of which has all the connotations of warmth, joy, happiness and merriness are shattered with this line.
“And under the wide bridge of a main street, the churning brown waters of the rain-fed river would wash away his blood without a trace.”
The mention of blood kinda dispelled that nice mood fairly quickly, makes a reader perk up and pay attention.
Your descriptions of the environment and his state are very good, had no problem envisioning what was happening.

I guess the part which I had to re read a few times was the structure play with his emotions.
First off I guess there’s a slight subject mixup?

Worry penetrated his foggy mind and nudged him out of his light stupor. A curiosity, almost childlike, laced with worry.

Since ‘worry’ is the first emotion to be introduced and you wanted to build on that so he had two emotions to deal with, the sentence should be:
Worry penetrated his foggy mind and nudged him out of his light stupor. Worry, almost childlike, laced with curiosity.
Or if you wanna keep the second sentence, then the first emotion to be introduced should be ‘curiosity’.

And then at the following mention, would have the comma replaced with a fullstop.

Worry. Curiosity.

Of which as the scene unfolds, we see the man knock off one of the emotions.

Worry.

So we know what he’s feeling now.

But somehow ‘fear’ snuck in there.
After ‘fear’, personally I think the structure play on his emotions would be good to stop there, especially as he had settled on ‘worry’ for most part, so the initial tug of war had ended.
If you wanted to describe how ‘worry’ came back after fear, then merely describe it as you did with the initial worry/curiosity sentence. Since the dialogue is flowing at this point, it’s nice to just keep with that.
As for the rest, well, a little boy randomly sleeps on a man who’s injured and probably dying of hypothermia and blood loss, lol.
Will his parents issue a manhunt? Will someone kill the boy while chasing after the man? Will the boy go back in the morning?
Can’t predict or say more after this, I’m just left hanging, so if you feel you wanna continue and update here, feel free too. ^^

Originally Posted by Duo Himera

Hey all. Thought I'd drop by, being a writer-y type.

First off welcome to Asuki, Duo Himera, 6 months later, but hi.
Rest continues inside...

Spoiler for stuffs:

But yeah, I've got way too many projects going at once. Numerous fanfics, a novel that is scarily not-that-far-in even though I've written ~50,000 words, a comic or two that I'd love to see drawn if I can get an artist to work with me (and stick with it, anyway), and more ideas for novels when the one I'm working on is finished (I'm not quite crazy enough to write two NOVELS simultaneously). Oh, and I tried starting a Rock Opera, but I didn't get very far on that, and I don't know if I'm going back to it. It's hard to do lyrics without music, and the idea was an undeveloped whim.

Practice does make perfect, and you certainly seem to be getting your fair share of practice in too.

And on the second count, I just don't write often enough. It's not even like I don't have time, I just don't -use- it. That's something I know I need to fix if I'm going to be serious about trying to make this work as a career.

I know that all too well
If I had to be divinely punished, it’d be for wasting my natural talents by not being disciplined enough to write often and bloody well finish a damn story. >.>
I have come and gone and dunno if I’ll bitchslap myself enough to keep on writing seriously, but I’ll try to keep at it on a casual level for now.

And my biggest fears bout my writing are: a) I'm crazy and everything I think is great really isn't that special, b) someone will call me out for stealing when I borrowed too heavily from another work (intentionally or not), and c) I will be accused of some sort of discrimination, either for not doing anything with race (I'm from a very white state, I don't feel qualified to address it) or as a sexism thing, because I -do- sometimes give my female characters more crap to deal with than my male characters. Personally I think it makes them stronger, but it may be some psychologically-rooted idea that the suffering of women is more tragic than the suffering of men...

Meh, freedom of speech.
You can write what you want, you just have to be able to justify the reasons for the subjects you tackle within your writing, it needs to have significance sustenance to it.

One of the hardest things about being an artist, is how your audience interprets your work. It very well plays on the ‘you cannot please everyone’ statement, you truly cannot.
Same goes with music, art and acting. You really have to stand by yourself and style as an artist, be humble enough to receive constructive criticism and amend but study enough to abide by your ideas and style no matter how many negative reactions or slants you receive.
Trust test of confidence, but for a hater, there’s always a lover.

Anyway, that was more information than you probably need to know about me ever, but delivered all at once! Woohoo!

If anyone is still lost as to how my novel can be 50,000 words and not that far along plot-wise (in the grand scheme of things), there is your answer.

Peronsally I think writing challenges of 100 words or flash fiction of 500 words would be a good exercise for you if you wanted to practice the ‘being concise and straight to the point in a short amount of time’ thing.
But you have passion and determination to a degree, so all the best. ^^

Another newbie to the scene Icewolf, welcome to Asuki, 6 months down the line

I used to role play quite a lot on message boards. Most of the people on these boards were content to use disposable characters without any real depth. I, on the other hand, made it a point to use the same character, named Shiranui, over a period of 6-7 years. He started off as a failed genetic experiment of DB's Red Ribbon Army and had grown in so many ways by the time I finally retired from roleplaying that he had almost become a part of me. I have an abundance of existing material to work with and I've often thought about making his "life" into a story.

The funny thing is that I have the exact same history with the lady here, *points at her nick*
Mystique, or rather I should call her ‘Mistress Mystique’, is literally my alter ego.
She is a character also developed over 3 years on an anime forum that had a rather unique and special section for a fantasy world on which we roleplayed on.
Me being a writer, couldn’t pass up on the chance to let my imagination go wild in an area of writing that I immerse myself in ever since I was a child, and so her character also grew and developed as I got older.
It’s been said that I’ve taken more of her traits and she has taken more of mine as the years passed until we’re almost indistinguishable from each other at present.
The material written up during those three years has spawned off enough ideas for me to dedicate a website to her and write her entire life story and adventures after. Again, a lack of discipline results in her universe remaining in my head for most part, but if you feel like a snippet, you can read one of her stories on here.

As for you personally writing, I do hope we get to see something in the near future. ^^

Originally Posted by TinyRedLeaf

As for me, other gamers often have a hard time believing me when I tell them I am not my characters, and my characters aren't me. They are "alive" in their own sense, driven by their own motives and experiences. Their actions are partly shaped by the events of the game, as well as by their own backstories. Is it me who gave birth to them, or they who are revealing themselves through me? Who knows? It's a mystery.

That process is also kinda fascinating when you write out some characters. I guess it could originate from what purpose the character was created for in the first place.
In Mystique’s case, she was everything I wished I could be, I dreamed I could be, I knew that I couldn’t be and I envied to be, personified, but that was reflecting a ‘me’ at aged 20 way back when, from which she was developed.
I think for most part, she is her own character, as well as her two "interesting" sidekicks as well.
It took a very sharp guy who can read people well to figure out where the lines may have crossed with me and her over the years but that’d take to seeing how she developed and knowing me personally, of which not many have crossed both offline and online boundaries of mine.
For her also, I think I can get away with her being her own ‘self’ for most part.
The other characters are written for themselves and I tend to favour the use of ‘third person’ for my stories.

Originally Posted by 3swords

Does anyone really use dreams as inspiration, cause alot of times i have some pretty fantastic dreams and start thinking up stories to go along with them

I have written down a few extracts of my dreams, especially kick ass ones that I have. The funny thing is when I read them, although I can recall the scene, it doesn’t seem that great, since during the dream, I was actually experiencing it, when to read about it makes me feel like an observer.
Also ‘welcome to Asuki’ as well, hope you’ve settled in nicely by now.

Originally Posted by Guersney

Can anyone give me tips on how to write a good psychodrama? I was hoping to create a fic with EB as inspiration but at the same time I don’t enough to write a story like that down. I don’t know if I could but nevertheless I going to give it my best shot and also I would like to know any authors who had done it before so that I can learn from them.

Read and watch a lot of psychodramas and take notes.
Seriously.
Study the area you want to work in and then develop your own style and ideas from that. A good anime for psychodrama would be ‘Monster’, if you wanna check it out.
I guess off the top of my head, good ingredients needed would be:
- Adept skill of skirting the obvious.
- Adept skill of creating subtle yet sharp tension.
- Plot twists so far, that the slap of meeting it would KO a person.
- Work underground. For everything that’s on the surface, have an underlying (or 2 or3 even 3 layers) working underneath that only you know.

Can’t think of anything else, those are just my ideas from being an audience and remembering how I felt and what worked well.
All the best if you do decide to pen something. ^^

Another late ‘welcome to Asuki’ to Zopeii, who posted a small extract for the possible beginnings of a story.
Let us know if 6 months down the line, you’ve developed something.

Next is ClockWorkAngel's tales and a few others too. That'll follow in a 'part 2' when I get the chance to write up stuff and read them all properly.

[The Master]

Another background story from the Empire groups role-play im running (shameless plug...)

The Patrition of Silver Sands placed his cup back onto the table as the last of Duke Rothsburys' guests left. "I guess I must leave too" he sighed as he pulled himself out of the chair "Though I don't really want to go I had gotten rather comfortable here." he smiled faintly but that vanished as the maid brought him a bowl of water so he could clean his hands. Over her arm she had a towel for him to dry his hands. As he reached for it he saw the tattoo on her wrist and sighed and repeated "Yes, I guess its time to go."

"You may stay the night if you wish. I will have a room prepared for you." Duke Rothsbury suggested as he watched the Patrition move towards the door as if a weight was upon him "Oh no I really must be going." he said glancing back at the maid as she walked away from him, realising the Duke was watching him he picked himself up and more cheerfully said "Though I thank you for your kindness, I really must be going we have much work to do if we are to challenge the Empire as you propose."
"Very well, tomorrow will be the start of a new day I promise you."
"Yes it will, with the support you gathered today we will surely be able to cast off the Empires rule." he nodded as he made his way to the door where another maid waited with his coat "Thank you" he said to the maid who bowed slightly. Outside the air was cold and their breath was visible. "Take care Ian." he said clasping the Dukes hand and glancing behind the Duke to see who was watching.
"I will." the Duke said shaking the Patritions hands and turning back into the warmth of the house. The Patrition watched as the Duke closed the door before beginning the walk to the pier.

The Duke watched the maids now suspicious of them given the Patritions suddenly nervous behaviour. "A drink my Duke to celebrate your success." One of the maids offered but he shook his head. The maid looked confused for a second but then raised her wrist to show her tattoo "Is it because of this." She laughed
"We could have killed you at any time so don't worry we are not going to do it now." The other maid laughed, as she cleaned the table.
"So was the Patrition right in his assumption you work for the Empire?" the Duke decided to just ask outright accepting the offered drink.
"As do you, so don't worry." The maid cleaning the table nodded.
"No..." he began but the maid put a finger on his lips.
"You are a loyal servant of the Empire, dear Duke. You have successfully gathered many of the Empires enemies into a single alliance which we can control. As long as you remain a loyal follower you remain our dear Duke, beloved of the Emperor. Should you fail to serve the Emperor you will not remain a Duke." the maid said.
"Why are you telling me this?" the Duke asked the maid who leaned in close and replied
"As punishment, now when you see these allies of yours you will know that you are the man who is nothing more than a puppet offering them hollow hope of resisting us."
"Oh and don't think of telling them the truth because while you act your role well we will let them live. The Empire knows who they are now and if you betray us you are signing their death warrants." The other maid said. The Duke sagged in his chair in front of the fire, as the maids returned to their work of cleaning.

[ClockWorkAngel]

Lots of work has been accomplished; "Relapse" introduces a hunter, she'll be referred to as "Psycho" one day.

Spoiler for Chapter 2:

Chapter Two

She breathed deeply, and the woman named Miss Stanfield brushed her dress clean from the dirt and debris of the alleyway.

Her eyes met the tall brunette standing beside her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” she covered her mouth as she said this; as if somehow thankful.

“And aren’t you supposed to be mute?” he said with a pretentious English accent.

He stretched and took a glance off what seemed to be an expensive watch.

He smiled took her hand, kissing it gently “But I kid, the answers for both is yes; but of course as you can see; they are not.”

“I have a question, what do you think is harder? Lying to everyone, or living a lie?”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing it was just a question.”

He grabbed into his back pocket and brandished a wallet with a hole in it.

It was without a doubt a hole made from a bullet.

It was then that her eyes wandered to the rest of his body, His clothes were riddled with holes, yet the body looked perfectly intact.

He opened the wallet, spilling the contents onto the floor, shattered cards and now useless bills.

“It’s a pity that fate is so cruel.” he said as he dropped the wallet onto the floor. “Your dress is ruined.” he pointed out.

“Remember you live with what you are born with.”

As he said this a black car stopped in front of the alleyway in front of them.

“My ride is here, I’m sure I’ll see you again; Miss Stanfield.”

And so he left her there in the abandoned alleyway.

She was alone again.

Looking at what she could see of herself, she noticed the differences between herself and herself.


She breathed out and cried.

But that weeping soon became a laugh, almost hysterical.

Alive!

She was alive again!

She was truly alive again!

In the darkening alleyway, at approximately 6:57 PM, a Miss Stanfield was killed and promptly returned to life. It was a miracle, it was a true miracle.

Relapse

Loneliness is a terrible thing.

It fills in our hearts until it can seep out of the small cracks within ourselves, blinding us, deafening us, clogging our noses and mouths, until the fact that we can still touch and still feel, becomes our only pleasure in life.

She was a very lonely girl.

Yes, she was the type of person who’d scold you for calling her a girl, the type of person to call her loneliness independence and the type of person to tell you off for even thinking of such a thing as a “very lonely girl”.

But the fact of the matter still stood; she was a very lonely girl.

She was a girl, because she had by no means qualified to be called a woman,

she was a lonely girl, because within herself she found a deep sense of incompleteness as a person,

she was a very lonely girl because within that feeling she had felt had never left her side unlike so many others,

except of course; him.


No, maybe that’s wrong for me to say, after all, this time she was the one who left.

She opened the door quietly and as she closed it behind her, she began to make a mad dash through the hallway. Passing through the doors, until she reached the elevator; a mad dash full of guilt.

She felt ashamed of herself, her heart raced in a mix of excitement and guilt. God, she thought, she didn’t even remembered his name and yet-, she readjusted her bra.

She wanted to be a bit more presentable to him, when she returned.

Whenever that was.

And even then, she wouldn’t know if she even was presentable; she had never looked into his eyes to see his expression. Yet even though she had went through so many men, those nameless one-night stands; he was the only constant.

He was always there waiting for her, 2 am, 3 am and once it was the morning, he was always there, his eyes gazing at the window view, always with a book, his legs perched onto a cushion.

When ever she opened the door uneasily and turned to close it his head would turn to face her; she would stare onto the floor instinctively, every time.

He said those familiar words “You’re back, are you feeling any better?” those words always made her want to cry, always made her want to scream. Make her want to raise her head and yell out to him,

“The only one I love is you!”

And run into his arms.

But she never did, her head had always stayed gazing down the floors, and she never knew if he was actually waiting to take her into his arms. She never knew if he was even ever sad.

She locked the door and kicked her shoes off weakly from her feet and turned to face him. When she stared up, all she could see was the back of his head.

She paced slowly to her room.

And she showered.

Nothing went through her mind, except the desire to become clean.

Even when she went out, even when she fell asleep in her bed, even when she would wake to him gone again, with a note on the table saying “I hoped you slept well.” she only felt dirtier.

Living off one his presence, only ever wanting him, only ever needing him to become whole, her loneliness only comforted by his companionship, her sadness only comforted by his happiness.

Is this what you call love?

If so, she was surely in love.

[Vault Dweller]

Cool I'm glad there's a thread like this, I've got plenty to read it seems! I love writing but I've never written a complete story. Rather I've been keeping an idea journal for several years in which I write down any ideas that may pop in my head. Ideas for stories usually. There is also a single story I've been slowly developing for just over a decade, fleshing out the world it takes place in and such. I would like to write a novel about It eventually.

[ClockWorkAngel]

Why not satisfy your hunger with shorts? Getting practice and getting more familiar with your style is never detrimental!

[whitepearl]

Yeah, it might be better to start off with a short story first to kinda get a feel for your writing style.

[ClockWorkAngel]

Another short;

Spoiler for Saying "Hello":

Saying “Hello”
A Story About Goodbyes

As the train shook and rocked with its wheels, so did the bodies inside of it. I stared into the windows opposite of me, past a sleepy old woman and her yawning grandchild, and above the heads of a couple; their heads on one another’s, already asleep.

The red sky that glowed dully into the window had invited a strange feeling of peace in me and I too found a distinct desire to fall asleep.

Had I though, I would have never met her.

My bag sat on the seat beside me. A familiar companion over the several trips I had with it.

It is the only thing I’ve never said goodbye to over these years.


How old am I now?

That’s been a question I’ve been asked and answered without hesitation over my adolescence; regardless of the situation.

When I was being scolded, when I was being praised,

when a family friend would feint interest in me, or when a relative would hang on my every word.

I imagine that with so much practice, I would have no problem with it at all at this point of my life.

However, now I feel like an aged man who forgotten how old he is and simply let the years past by, without a thought of how long he has lived, without a thought of how much longer he will live, unafraid of death, living in the spur of the moment.

To be honest I don’t feel like I’ve done enough to warrant such a care-free life.


As my eyelids began to drop ever so slightly, I could hear the female announcer’s voice from the speaker at the front of the carriage, notifying me that we were reaching a stop.

The train began to halt, the carriage shaking for a moment. As a few men in business suits and the grandmother and her grandchild moved slowly to the now open doors, I found myself seated beside the wall, dividing the door and the row of seats with their backs against the train’s walls.

On the vacant seat beside me, I placed my bag, and in a way I found that it created a wall in itself.

But really I’m thinking too much about it.

I had, after all always wanted to be a writer.


As passengers entered the carriage and the doors rang three times in quick succession, the seats were slowly being filled up.

An old man that reminded me of myself had been heartlessly past by, and was the only one left standing.

I reached for my bag, but before it even left the seat a bright voice stopped me.

“Here! You can take my seat.”

A girl, which looked to be around my age, but definitely younger had offered her seat the old man.

He thanked her and took her seat.

Somehow, unexpectedly I had raised my bag and placed it upon my lap as she smiled to the old man saying with an embarrassed tone “No, no! You don’t have to thank me! It’s alright!”.

It was a scene that showed the little bit of human kindness that existed in the world.

Before she could grab a pole, she had found that an empty seat was already created for her.


“Huh? Umm, thank you.” she said to me as she took a seat, bringing a large bag to her lap as well.

“No, it’s no problem; it’s just the right thing to do.”

“It is, isn’t it...” she chuckled weakly.

I suppose she was thinking about the small good deed she did, like many people, they wouldn’t think much of it.

But bystanders unable to do what she did, had probably for just a moment felt a sense of relief; and guilt.

Just like I did.


I find that the songs that they used to play on the trains years ago had allowed me to forget the rhythmic bumps of the train’s wheels.

It is these rhythmic bumps that lull the people on the train to sleep and as I watch them all close their eyes, if for a moment, or for the entire way through.

Yet I am unable to do so now.

I’m not quite sure why.

I felt like there was a wave of uneasiness that overcame me, stopping me from closing my eyes.


It was then that I felt a weight on my shoulder.

Her head had dropped onto ever so gently and her hair had been draped upon my shoulder.

I wanted to tap her on her shoulder, or say something to her.


I imagined that she like the heroines of some particular stories would rashly yell in embarrassment, waking the other slumbering passengers, only adding to her embarrassment.

If that had happen, I could have smiled to myself amazed that I was able to be part of something I have considered so unreal.

For a moment I could escape the realities of life.

Yet, I couldn’t bear myself to do so.

Perhaps it is because it’s been so long since I’ve felt the weight of another human being on my shoulder, forgetting the burdens of reality.

No, I’m simply thinking too much into it.

I had merely thought that it was more of a hassle than anything.

Besides, she would wake up on her own anyways.

And If I could just close my eyes and fall asleep; it would simple be thought of a coincidence.

If only I could close my eyes.


If you count the number of bumps the train has, you can tell how much time has past; ever bump meant that ten or so seconds had past.

I had begun to count the bumps, but I had stopped near thirty, realizing that it was in vain.

I would never fall asleep, and she showed no signs of waking up.


In a moment of bravery, or perhaps sheer impulse my other hand had reached to pat her shoulder, as my hand had inched closer her eyes had suddenly opened.

“Wha- are we there ye-” she had interrupted herself as she brought her hands to her mouth suddenly; her bag falling with a quite thump onto the floor.

She grabbed the bag and quickly placed it back on her lap again.

‘Umm, I’m sorry. Please forgive me!” she had said suddenly, her head had spun around, unable to face me.

“No, it’s alright.”

She gripped her bag tightly and continued to stare away, all I could do was let my eyes wander away, as my eyes turned away, so did my head and my hand had already found itself back onto my side.

I had, unintentionally created a wall for myself, separating me from the rest of the train.

What she had did, after that still puzzles me today, she had asked while still looking away,

“So why are you on this train?”

A little bit surprised and said while facing away from her “I’m visiting someone, I knew him for a long time and I’m simply visiting him today.”

“I see.”

“What about yourself?”

“I’m visiting some relatives.”

“Oh, I see.”

“They were my family, well they used to be it’s just been-.” she stopped herself chuckling abit and asked herself “Why am I telling you this?” with a chuckle “You’re just a stranger really.”

“Everyone starts off as strangers, there’s nothing entirely wrong with it probably. Did that come off right?”

“Yes, it did. Please accept my apology.”

“You don’t need to be so formal, it’s not like I’m any one important after all.”

“I’m sor-” she stopped herself again, continuing “It’s just force of habit.”

“I understand the feeling.”

“You do? That’s a relief. To be honest I have a lot to say, but really I’m not that comfortable. With talking about these things to a stranger.”

“No one really is, it’s normal.”

“You’re not offended?”

“I think I am, just a little.”

I sighed and turn my face, to find hers watching mine.

“But I’ve been told I’m a good listener, besides it’s not like we’ll meet again.”

“You don’t look like the type of person to spread rumours.”

“Really?”

“It’s because you seem so lonely, and the way you speak; it’s like you’re never really happy with what you have. That’s just what I think.”

“Oh, I see…” my voice trailed off and my eyes wandered for a moment.

“Have I,” she paused “offended you?”

“No.” I lied “No, not at all.”

She cleared her throat and she looked at me as my eyes wander back to her.

“I suppose it began when I left home for school.”

“That’s a common thing to happen, we all experience change once we leave homes.”

“No, it’s more like I ran away really. To be honest I didn’t leave to study, I just wanted to get away from it all.”

“Oh?”

“They changed.”

“We all do, with time.”

“I know, but really I couldn’t accept it, not at all.”

“And?”

“I suppose I assumed that after all this time, I could accept it, perhaps I could understand it.”


I had nodded, and in reality I wish it was a nod done out of instinct, that I wasn’t listening to her so keenly.

I had never wanted to know the burdens of someone’s life, it was a weight I did not long for.

It wasn’t a weight that was thankfully taken away, one that one carries in pride, but rather a weight that one tries to forget, to get used to.

Eventually that weight either crushes you, or cripples you forever.

But I had accepted her words and her burdens, even though she didn’t want to let them go at all.

I had unwittingly lightened the weight in her heart, even though she had wanted it to keep to herself.


After that, she didn’t say a word. Was that all? I truly doubted it.

Yet I was still hung onto her words.

Because by lightening her heart I had felt so much more human.

Or perhaps the right word is needed; wanted, having a meaning to exist.

Those feelings are what define the humans because only humans need to be needed, to be wanted and desire to have a meaning to exist.

Those feelings are what separate us from everything else.

No, I’m simply thinking too much into it.

I surely had pitied her and wanted to hear her story.


“Hey, what do you think?”

“Hmm?” I hummed.

“About the entire thing, you think it’s silly right?”

“Well I-.” she interrupted me,

“You do think it’s silly, don’t you?! I shouldn’t have said anything to you. Please…” she paused “just forget about it, alright?”

“S-sure.” I managed to say, she had turned her head away again and I could only imagine the expression behind the back of her head.

But I didn’t bother.

I was afraid to be wrong and so I didn’t bother.

“Hey… why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“What?”

“I think it would be better for me to know abit more about the stranger I just talked to.” she turned to face me, her face uneasy.

“So I wouldn’t be so much of a stranger?”

“Exactly… so please, tell me about yourself.”

“I’ve been going on this trip for a while now.”

“You don’t keep count?”

“No, I never enjoyed keeping count of things. I suppose that I do this out of obligation.”

“Obligation? How-” pausing, her eyes turned away for a second, “If you don’t mind telling me that is.”

“No, I don’t. It was something he did; I believe he saved my life.”

“Believe?”

“I don’t really remember now, it’s been so long.”

“I see…” her voices trailed off.

“You’re… I’m trying to find the right word….” she mused for a moment before exclaiming “Unique! Definitely, you’re really unique!”

“Unique?” I asked weakly.

“I’m sorry, I’ve unintentionally offended you.”

“No, not at all.”

“It’s just that, you’re different, really different. Don’t you think this sort of situation’s really unreal?”

It was, it really was.

“No, not really, maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

“You think so? I couldn’t ever imagine this ever happening, before this moment of course.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, not at all, after talking to you for a moment, I felt that..” she stopped herself

“I’ve lightened your heart perhaps?”

“Yes, I guess that’s how you could describe it. I’ve definitely feel abit better.”

“Even before you meet your family?”

“I think nothing’s going to change.”

“You’re afraid that you didn’t change?”

“No.” she sighed and finished “I’m afraid that they didn’t change.”


Silence sank in and before I could open my mouth to break it the announcer’s voice had came from intercom again.

“That’s my stop.” I told her, taking my bag from my lap.

“Thank you, for listening to me.” she said to me as I began to leave the seat.

“It’s probably best to pretend this never happened, right? It might leave a better impression on you in the future.”

“Oh? I don’t really see how that would help.”

“Never mind, don’t worry about it. It was nice meeting you, good luck.”

“Thanks…” her voice trailed off

As I moved to the door and as the door run three times, she said in a quiet voice,

“It would be nice if we could meet again.”

I stayed silent and as the doors open I hurled myself out the door into the empty station with a few other passengers.


“It would have been nice if we could meet again”

I repeated that line to myself, seemingly enchanted, that was the strongest impression that she left on me.

And I asked myself, why couldn't I, say that line to her.

Jokingly I thought I was in love.

In reality I was in love.

In reality I didn’t want to be in love.

She had become another person I had to say “Goodbye” to.


It was that day that I learned that the man whom I was supposed to meet had died a week before, and I had simply left before I could be told.

He was someone I had to say “Goodbye” to, even before I could say “Hello”.

After paying my respects to his family, and enacting the long and tedious ritual of host and guest, I had left the present in my bag for his family and stay until the train was due to leave again.


I couldn’t say any kind words to his family, on how great of a man he might have been in his life, of what type of unwavering friendship we shared, or anything that would leave a good impression of a man to his family.

People after all, have lives and identities outside the walls of their homes.

I simply told them that he was a person I would visit every year because I had time.

I was never good with words when talking to others; I could never find the right things when they mattered.

It would have been fine if his family didn’t really existed, then I would have time to write about what type of man he was in earnest.

Only then could I find the right words to describe him.


As the sunset that had consumed the sky only hours before had disappeared into the night sky, I held my bag, waiting for the train’s doors to open.

The train had ringed three times as normal and the doors opened slowly.

I stepped on to the train. I saw her look up to me and returning her gaze back to her lap.

I walk to her and ask “Is this seat taken?”

She murmurs “No.” as heaved her bag from the bag beside her onto her lap and buried her face into it.

The silence was awkward to say the least.

“What should I say?” I asked her nervously.

Her face still buried into her bag, hidden by her arms said something.

“Pardon?” I asked.

Her eyes peeked out from her arms and she said “It’s never too late to say hello.” before I could see her turn deeply scarlet, and retuning into the sanctuary of her arms.

“Is that so?” I said to myself. “Well in that case, hel-“

She interrupted me, “Hello!” her face jolted up from her arms and she smiled spitefully.

“Have we met before? You look familiar.” I asked her jokingly.

“Oh? Then have you previously been visited by an angel recently? Because I certainly don’t remember seeing such a mutt like you!” She concluded smugly.

“It must have surely been someone else, She wasn’t nearly as rude as you!” She chuckled at my answer and continued on.

“Regardless, It’s nice to meet you.” she nudged me for an answer.

When I answered, she laughed.

“What? That’s my name!”

“It sounds so grandiose!” she tried to contain her laughter. “But it’s a good name, it fits you.”

“What about you?”

“Nu-uh. You gotta ask nicely.” she smiled.

“Fine! I won’t even ask!” I replied pouting childishly, my head turned away from her.

Her head came close to my side and when I peeked back at her, she had risen from her seat and upon meeting my face smirked, “Oh? Fine then, but I know your name now. In some cultures that means I own your soul!” she laughed with a hint of superiority, before sitting down on her seat again.

"You're definitely unique, you really fit into whatever situation life puts you in."

"No, I'm not really good with things like this."

"You're.. too modest."

Her eyes wandered away and she let out a huge yawn into the empty train, “I’m so tired...”

My finger went into her gaping mouth and she gagged slightly, before bringing her teeth to it.

“That hurts!” I exclaimed quickly and she spat it out and with a huge grin she chuckled to herself.

"Was this side of you something you were hiding?" she asked me.

"No, to be honest this isn't the real me, what about you? You're definitely different."

"No, you're right.. I'm definitely not that cheerful of a person. I guess it was too late to reinvent ourselves, wasn't it?"

For a moment we chuckled to ourselves, it was then that she had asked me,

“Why are you back so soon? Weren’t you going to stay with a friend?”

“He fell ill a month ago, and died recently. I wasn’t able to meet him.”

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me to ask I-.”

“You don’t need apologize, these things happen after all.”

“I suppose so…” her voice and gaze trailed off.

“What about you?”

“In the end, I just couldn’t accept it.”

She chuckled weakly to herself.

“I shouldn’t have asked, should have I?” I questioned her.

“No, it’s just like you said, these things happen.”

I’m sure the thought that went through our minds was “But why did they have to?”.


There was an awkward silence.


Our eyes had met every so often, mine staring into the deepness of the blue she had, seeing my own brown eyes reflected back on hers.

Until our cheeks would flush red ever so gradually, a redness that we could see reflected in one another’s eyes, that redness which we turned away from.

And every so often, our stares would align again.

It was something you’d expect to see from quiet childhood friends looking for something more, or a young couple deeply in love in love for the first time.

Isn’t that why I was looking back all the time?

To convince myself it was real?

To convince myself that she was real?

And yet,

and yet.


The silence continued.

The silence continued to the end of the ride.

In that silence, I had waited, waited for a single moment.

I had waited because I wasn’t able to say it.

She was right, it was never too late to say hello.

And so I waited, not because I didn’t want to say hello,

but because I never wanted to say goodbye.

Spoiler for Author's Notes:

Things like tearful farewells and saying goodbye should be reserved for people who’ll never meet again.

[ShadowSeed]

I COULD post some of my 20-page fanfiction, but then again, i don't seriously think even myself that it's readable,a s it has typos, grammatical errors and the plot is....something that you can merely call a plot. I'm still training my story-writing skills. And also, i'm trying to see every error without posting it, but it's hard with that wall of text i usually write. Also, as english isn't my native language, it's also pretty loaded with bad phrases. However, if someone SERIOUSLY wants to read it, i can pack ti as a .txt and give you a link to a .rar

[psycho_luny]

As I looked in your eyes
My heart broke into 2.

As I saw the tears in your eyes
I wished I could take away the pain.

As you gasped for your last breath
I wished it was me that was dying.

As the years slowly past by
It feels like my heart hurts more with every sunrise.

All those years with knowing you died due to my incompetence
I prayed I could go back with the knowledge, the competence to save you.

My heart stopped beating the moment you past on
It feels like I died with you.

May the gods guard over you, as I wasn’t able to.
R.I.P. Cheyenne 23-09-1992 ---> 17-06-1999

[psycho_luny]

When all gave up on me, you didn’t
You where there to guide me.
When I was drowning in self pity,
It was you who pulled me out of it.
You did not know me,
But gave me support when I needed it.
When I lost the will to live,
It was you, a light shining bright to guide me.
It is thanks to you that I’m still alive.
But when you needed it,
You didn’t draw strength from me.
In your time of sadness,
you succeeded in taking your own life

You are and you’ll always be my best friend.
R.I.P. Samantha 31-09-1991 --> 12-03-2010

[psycho_luny]

It started on a normal day; angeal was visiting his girlfriend Cheyenne, after an half hour Cheyenne’s mother left to buy some groceries. The 2 where having fun, they played game after game. “Wow this is fun angeal” she says as she leans back on the chair with a pawn of the board game in her mouth “yeah, hey you better not do that. If you fall you’ll choke on the pawn” “ha-ha, I won’t fall.” Angeal gets up and heads towards the corridor. “I’m of to the bathroom” “okay” as he turns left in the corridor he hears a thumbing sound, he starts to laugh as he heads back to the room. His laughing stops by the sight of seeing Cheyenne choke. “Cheyenne NO!!!” he rushes towards her and tries to help “hold on I’ll help, don’t worry.”as she tries to grasp for air she looks at angeal, tears start to appear for she knows she is going to die. “No baby, please stay with me. Don’t die, please don’t die” he does whatever he can but fails, as seconds past by Cheyenne slowly dies of suffocation in his arms. He holds her in his arms till the moment her mother arrives back home “Angeal, Cheyenne come down for a minute I’ve got something for you 2” “HEEEEELP!!!” with hearing angeal she rushes up to Cheyenne’s bedroom, she drops to the ground next to Cheyenne and tries get her breathing again. Angeal starts to cry more with every minute that passes by for it starts to hit him that she is dead. The mother quickly grabs her phone and calls an ambulance; she then covers up Cheyenne with a blanket and hugs angeal trying to comfort him and herself. Minute’s pasts and the ambulance arrive; the men rush in and race towards Cheyenne. They gently pick her up; put her in a plastic bag. They lay her in the ambulance, angeal and the mother follow, the ambulance rushes toward the hospital. Once there a woman comes up to angeal to comfort him, the woman is psychiatrist and she and angeal spend a half hour talking about how he feels, if he’s alright. Angeal’s parents arrive and take him home. The day’s slowly past by and angeal starts to have nightmares of the happening. Afraid that he would lose someone ever again he began to close himself from the outside world fearing the pain he, he still feels every day. Six years past by and he has started drinking, trying to forget the event if only for a moment. 1 evening a girl from his class sees him drunk on the street, she decides to help him and takes him home to sober up. In the time after that she helps him to handle the pain and helps him to stay of the alcohol. Another 5 years past by, the pain has not faded nor has the nightmares. He has lived his entire life in a prison he created, caring only for the girl that helps him.

[psycho_luny]

note: i'm continouing my last story.
__________________________________________________ ___________
the boy has beome an man, hating the entire world and every person in it. he continous to live on, if only just barely. every day is the same, everything he does, he does the same. slowly dyïng of the pain that never fades, he continous. he finds work, but never finds it appealing. every morning before goïng to it he thinks of quiting, but knows none else then where he works would want him.
the friend that saved him, learned loss in an bit of similar way. beïng 6 moths pregnant the person she loves leaves her, completely broken she tries to kill her self but gets stopped in doïng so. as the words came to angeal, raged clouded his mind. death his only thought, he heads to the guy. angeal rings the bell, with hatred he waits for a few seconds before the door opens. as the door opens he forces himself in, once in he sees the man suprised. blinded by rage he start to hit him in the face over and over, the man falls to the ground. with an grin on his face, angeal starts to kick the man over and over. "I TOLD YOU I WOULD KILL YOU IF YOU HURT HER" *he crouches and grabs the guy by the throat* "she tried to kill herself thanks to you, you left her when she was 6 moths pregnant. you fucking bastard" *with blood dripping from his face* "i never ment to hurt her, i couldn't stay with her, i felt miserable the last few moths in our relationship" *angry by the word angeal punches the man a few times* "SO YOU LEFT HER AS SHE WAS PREGNANT, PREGNANT OF YOUR CHILD" *with tears on his eyes* "i tried to stay, i tried to make it work but i couldn't." *as angeal starts to choke the man, he gets a call. confident the man won't be able to get away or do anything he gets up and answers the call. it seemed that the friend had tried to kill herself again, hearing the news over angeal's shocked* "didn't any of you watched her...........then how the fuck did she get the oppertunity to try again........................i'll meet you at the hospital, i've got busines to settle here and then i'm on my way" *with anger he turns to the guy* "she tried again, see what you have brought to her." *as he cries harder, by hearing the news "i'm so sorry, i never wanted her to be hurt" "if you don't want to get her hurt more you keep your mouth shut about this, you don't speak to anyone about me having done this to you" "i...i...i won't" *with disgust he helps the man up, and helps him to the living room* "not a fucking word about this" "none" *angeal quickly rushes outside and heads towards the hospital, as he reaches the room the friends, that where watching the girl are waiting outside* "you dumbasses, you where to make shure she wasn't able to try and kill herself" "i'm sorry, she went to the bathroom and....." "and what, you should have gone with her. go away, i don't want any of you here" "but...but..." "i said GO" *he goes inside as the others leave*

(more the next time i'm online)

[Renchan]

I've never know this kind of thread exist.

Night

The night is so dark
You might lose your way

The night is so twisted
You might lose your faith

The night is so cruel
You might lose yourself

The night is so beautiful
You might find the truth

and another one, a self reflection poem.

Midnight Clock

Midnight clock strikes zero
I keep my eyes open
Trying to tell the different
The me from the past and the current me

The memories are flowing
Like an old movie
Fire burned with hatred
Rain washed the sadness

Midnight clock strikes zero
I keep my eyes eyes
I can't tell the different
The me from the past and the current me

Who is the old me?
I was nobody
Who is the current me?
I was nobody

The scenery always change
Yet, the me standing there is the same
Like a timeless stills
who can't move to other frames

Midnight clock strikes zero
The sound that irritated me
The sound of merciless flow
The sound of change

Yet, why I am a still?
Why I am the same?
A nobody who can't be somebody
An unknown frameless still

[psycho_luny]

@Renchan: geez that's good, a freaking master piece.

[psycho_luny]

"hey you" angeal says as he walks in, with the sight of him a little smile appears on her face. "hey angeal......i'm...." "don't worry bout it, you alright" "yeah, i'm fine" angeal sits down in a chair next to her, he softly grabs her left hand and kisses it "i was worried about you" a tear appears in the corner of his eyes "hey, don't cry. i'm alright, i just had a relapse" she brushes her hand through his hair, slowly and softly placing it on his cheek "i'm sorry that i made you worry, i know how it makes you feel to lose someone. i promis i won't be like her and leave" she slowly sits up straigth "don't strain yourself, tell me what you want and i'll get it" "please come closer" as angeal slowly goes closer to her, she places her hand underneath his chin and kisses him. "i love you too much to hurt you" she looks into his eyes and he looks back into hers "i..i..." "you don't have to say anything angeal" "samantha, i'm sorry that you're goïng this." an little comforted smile appears on her face "hey, its alright. i'm just glad i have you to support me" "i'm just glad you want me too, its the least what i can do for what you did for me" she slowly lays back on the bed "don't worry, besides you where to handsome for me to let you die" she giggles "i was??" he smiles at the sight of her happy "hey angeal, is it alright if i take a nap, i'm just so tired" "yeah go ahead" he kisses her on the head and sits down on the chair "sleep tight" she says as she slowly falls asleep "sleep tight" as she sleeps hour pasts and angeal hasn't moved from the chair, slowly feeling more tired by the minute. he falls asleep.

[Nerroth]

A short Transformers-related fic, entered into a writing contest on another forum.

Spoiler for Heartbeats:

Heartbeats

by Nerroth

Cut off from the Protectors and their Alternity allies, Elita Seven has little time to come to terms with her new synthoid form as she makes a direct intervention.


Ba-bom ba-bom. Ba-bom ba-bom.

Elita Seven rode along a series of side roads on the back of her motorcycle. From her vantage point, she could see a humanoid Autobot - perhaps a Pretender, or maybe a fellow synthoid - keeping a Decepticon flyer at bay. The humanoid had landed a shot on the flyer’s dorsal hull, causing its stealth system to malfunction. Rather than vanish from her sight when cloaking, its silhouette was intermittently exposed through a series of electric pulses coursing along its form. Hopefully, the humanoid could buy her enough time to engage successfully.

As she raced along, she carefully balanced her controls, maintaining a three-dimensional tactical image overlaid upon a local road map, while keeping her own eyes open in the process. Yet, perhaps for the first time, she found other things she had to try and control.

Her breathing, for one. She had hardly noticed the need to manually regulate this process while serving as an observer during the Alternity Crisis, recording each event from a relatively safe vantage point. Now, with her Timaeus drive malfunctioning and communications with her comrades sundered, she had to struggle to not fall out of breath as she raced near the scene of battle.

All the while, she could hear - could feel - the beating of her heart muscles, as they worked furiously to push blood through her body. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at how little control she had over this. While she could try to breathe slowly, in and out, once and again, it was an indirect means, at best, of helping matters.

In her database lay files of reports, from those who had taken pretender or synthoid forms, telling how profound a change that life as a biological entity caused. At this moment, she might have wished she had been more attentive at reading them.

Ba-bom ba-bom.

This is a part of who I am. I won’t let it best me!

Subconsciously, she reached a hand curled into a fist and pressed it against her chest, feeling the pulse even through the riding suit and glove she was wearing. She took a deep breath, trying to centre herself.

I can do this.

Revving the engine, she raced towards her target point. The flyer was drawn in one last time, reaching out with its engine-claws to grasp the humanoid in one swoop.

Let’s go, Windstorm!

At her silent command, the boosters in her mount engaged, launching her into the air. Squeezing tightly into the bike’s sides as she swung to one side, she summoned her energon bow and readied an arrow.

Ba-bom.

Ba-bom.

Barely a few metres above the flyer, in the midst of her aerial corkscrew, she loosed the arrow. It took no time at all to bury itself into the flyer’s left wing before exploding violently and blasting it off-course.

A few moments later, it had crashed. Elita and her mount went screeching along the ground, leaving a gash in their wake.

That felt different, she thought to herself, but I can get used to it.

She sat up and removed her helmet, shaking her head as it was freed from its protective confinement. Thus, it was with her own eyes that she would see him clearly for the first time.

“Hello, my lady,” he said, offering his hand. “I am in your debt.”

Ba-bom...

…for a second, she felt her heart skip a beat.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, reaching out to take his hand. As she did so, she couldn’t help but smile.

Whatever this is, I might just get used to it, too.

[Mystique]

As a writer to a writer, some advice for you.
For any novels you have, carefully look at the breakdown of structure.
As in use of paragraphs (please for all that is holy, use paragraphs!!)
Split of dialogue lines as well.
Punctuation, spelling (run it through MS Word before posting) and grammar.

It's good practice to implement these as best as you can while you write from the get go.
(Be disciplined with yourself while writing, this is general advice for anyone though.)

It's also good for the readers not to have their brains crash on them from mass blocks of text with no punctuation. x.x;;
Also, try reading your own story aloud without the punctuation that are severly missing in there. You'll probably be able to hear where it doesn't sound natural and amend it yourself that way too
So for now I'll partially edit your last post, but do please apply above mentioned points in your previous posts for this story.
Good luck! ^^

Originally Posted by psycho_luny

"hey you" angeal says as he walks in, with the sight of him a little smile appears on her face.
"hey angeal......i'm...."
"don't worry bout it, you alright"
"yeah, i'm fine" angeal sits down in a chair next to her, he softly grabs her left hand and kisses it "i was worried about you" a tear appears in the corner of his eyes
"hey, don't cry. i'm alright, i just had a relapse" she brushes her hand through his hair, slowly and softly placing it on his cheek "i'm sorry that i made you worry, i know how it makes you feel to lose someone. i promis i won't be like her and leave"

"Hey you," Angeal says as he walks in.
At the sight of him, a small smile appears on Samantha's face.
"Hey Angeal... I'm..."
"Don't worry about it," he interrupts her before asking, "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Angeal sits down in a chair next to her, softly taking her left hand and kissing it. "I was worried about you," he says with a tear appearing in the corners of his eyes.
"Hey, don't cry. I'm alright, I just had a relapse".
She brushes her hand through his hair, slowly and softly before placing it on his cheek. "I'm sorry that I made you worry, since I know how it feels to lose someone. I promise I won't be like her and leave you."

she slowly sits up straigth "don't strain yourself, tell me what you want and i'll get it"
"please come closer"
as angeal slowly goes closer to her, she places her hand underneath his chin and kisses him. "i love you too much to hurt you" she looks into his eyes and he looks back into hers "i..i..."
"you don't have to say anything angeal"
"samantha, i'm sorry that you're goïng this." an little comforted smile appears on her face
"hey, its alright. i'm just glad i have you to support me"
"i'm just glad you want me too, its the least what i can do for what you did for me" she slowly lays back on the bed "don't worry, besides you where to handsome for me to let you die" she giggles
"i was??" he smiles at the sight of her happy "hey angeal, is it alright if i take a nap, i'm just so tired"
"yeah go ahead" he kisses her on the head and sits down on the chair "sleep tight" she says as she slowly falls asleep
"sleep tight" as she sleeps hour pasts and angeal hasn't moved from the chair, slowly feeling more tired by the minute. he falls asleep.