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Is it okay...? |
I like it! ^ ^ |
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100% |
[ 4 ] |
It's... horrible... >>; |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
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Total Votes : 4 |
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 4:40 pm
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Eleven years ago, Xander's single mother was murdered, while he watched from underneath the bed. Gun shots. Screams. Evil laughter. This scene has kept him from sleeping decently for years on end and the trauma hasn't stopped yet. Now he lives with his aunt a mile or so from the scene. He still has the exact same images in his head from when it happened, but will they ever go away? Arcissicia and Brayden are his current best friends, but will they find out? Will Arci notice that he's beginning to act weirder around her? Find out!
**This is a chapter to a book I haven't made yet, nor have really attempted. Just one chapter. xD I'm twelve years old, so remember that and give me a decent rating. (; This isn't my original, I have added since then, so enjoy~!! I'm sorry if this type of theme seems overused, but oh well. I was bored. And I'm not so sure on the title yet, but that's what I'm going for now.**
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 4:43 pm
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A boy of sixteen years awoke from a nightmare, sweaty and gulping down his fear. The horrible dream was really a memory that constantly played in his head during his slumber. It had stayed with him for many years, and the boy wished with all his heart that it would vanish, as well as the two that took something precious away from him.
"Mom..." he peered over his covers to his ebony desk. There lay a photo frame of his passed mother. "One day... I'll find them... whoever took you away..." he whispered to the picture of a woman who had beautiful dark brown hair that caressed her face like leaves on a tree. And as if she could hear, the wind blew gently from his opened window. This was something he always had open. The glass window. It wasn't just a habit, it was a belief that she could hear him, and he could hear her. The trees were just her messengers.
Xander sat up and wiped the perspiration off his brow, "One day..." he murmured as he slipped cautiously out of his bed -- a blue, stripy themed. His room had many ornaments decked out everywhere, posters of bands and whatever he really liked stapled on the walls, splatters of paint against the back wallpaper to make a weird scene, cation tape and road signs on his door. Kind of a typical teenager's room. His eye's wandered back to the photo, he was gazing unawarely, wondering what his mom would be like.
For nights after the incident, he cried silent tears alone. He was alone. The boy never knew his dad. Gone before he was born. Never in his life had he felt so isolated in the world. But that was 11 years ago... He still had a heavy heart when he thought about it, but now, he hadn't a tear to shed on it. She was gone. And she wasn't coming back. Nothing could change that.
All he could remember was walking into his mom's room, early on a Monday morning. 4:17 to be precise. Choked up in tears, little did he know his nightmare was about to come true. There were murderers on 125 Canterbrawn Lane. The five-year old boy sat in his mother's lap, telling her what happened in the devilish dream. Mother stroked his hair lovingly. It was as soothing as lavender how she carressed his cheeks... And a gentle smile waited behind his ear as she held him closely.
Xander's mother, Arissa, whispered calming words, "It's alright, dear. I'm here, it was just a bad dream." she had said in his ear, kissing his head in such a motherly way... Then, there was banging on the door and gunshots. Instinctively, she pushed him under the bed. Now all he could see were two pairs of black boots. Be heard almost everything. Screams of pains. Shouts of devious laughter. More gunshots. Then silence overtook the room. Xander basked for what seemed like hours in the hushed house. It wasn't until the police came and searched the home that they found him sobbing quietly under the bed which his mother died on.
The screams his mom produced still rang in his ears endlessly. Why did they take her? For the sake of just murdering innocent people for fun?... Why? Now that memory was affixed in his head forever, And it barely leave his mind when he slept. It was if his body was attuned to the moment so that he could never forget a word, and a sound wave, or voice. That night... his fear turned into reality. A reality no one could forget.
The boy's head began to ache tremendously at the thought of it... It's been 11 years since. Now, he lives with his adoptive mother, Aunt Kelsey, on 435 Elbridge Avenue. Only around a mile or two from the actual scene. Kelsey was his mother's sister and took Xander in as her own. The short blonde never met that special person in her life. She, herself, was an pretty little thing, but she couldn't find that person who suited her or matched her taste. The woman's hair stretched down just past her shoulders, freckles were, though it seemed, sprayed across her cheeks and nose. An adorable look for her age. Kelsey was 27 years, so she wasn't that aged yet.
4:32 (a.m.) the digital alarm clock read. So often he waken exhausted this time, but couldn't get back to sleep. So, in time, he learned to love coffee. The stimulant calmed him a bit as its fumes ran up his nostrils when he took a deep breath. And since that dream haunted him for so long, he just had to have something keep his energy up. Five to six hours of sleep was a normal night. If he got lucky, he got seven.
Xander walked into his bathroom and examined his facial features. Dark circles hung under his eyes. His eyes, as Kelsey said "Look like the ocean under the moonlight.", but in other words, they were a deep blue, immeansly dark as well. He brushed his pearly white teeth with ease and ran a hand through his hair to flatten it out a bit. Xander didn't bother with his hair too much. No matter how much gel or spray he put on it there was always a cow lick or a bunch of hair spiked up at the back of his brown hair. Chocolate brown hair and ocean blue eyes...
Soon after grooming himself, he dragged on into the kitchen silently to eat breakfast: Cereal and coffee, or if they had some -- bagels! Xander poured the coffee into a rouge red cup and the cheerios and milk into a creamy white bowl. Eating quietly by himself he thought of what he should do today. 'Maybe I'll make Brayden and Arci go to the movies with me, or we can hang out or something.' he thought, drumming his fingers against the table. Saturdays were his favorite day of the week, but he had yet to wait for the sun to rise, and even yet, his friends to awake from their own slumber.
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 5:38 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 5:50 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 6:59 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 7:12 pm
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Posted: Fri Apr 16, 2010 1:28 pm
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Posted: Fri Apr 16, 2010 5:54 pm
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Posted: Fri Apr 16, 2010 6:00 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 18, 2010 3:31 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 18, 2010 10:04 pm
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Not bad. xD I such at rating things, though, so I'll just stick with not bad. Some things to keep in mind...
- Don't tell so much, for example,
Quote: His room had many ornaments decked out everywhere, posters of bands and whatever he really liked stapled on the walls, splatters of paint against the back wallpaper to make a weird scene, cation tape and road signs on his door.
This was good
Quote: Kind of a typical teenager's room. This was not. We can tell that it's a typical teenager's room, there's no need to tell us. xD
I would also work on your hooks, starting a story with "a boy of sixteen years," didn't do it for me. >_> I'd actually start with what you had in your first post. It's exciting, gripping, and doesn't drown the reader in, "the hell's going on?"
Still, not bad. :') Keep writing! I'd love to read more of your work.
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Posted: Mon Apr 19, 2010 4:42 pm
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Posted: Fri Apr 23, 2010 3:35 am
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Posted: Sun May 02, 2010 4:46 pm
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