Sad memories
By: Crashnburn_021
PG-13 (maybe more later)
[email protected]
Characters belong to L.J Smith; I could never create such beauty. I think I might try
and come up with some characters of my own later.
She remembers them all now. The memories flooding her mind, fragmented
pieces of moments that she thought she had long ago forgotten. But she should have
known better, she should have known that she could never forget. It was just that
sometimes..... sometimes after the sun would set; it would all come back to her.
Sometimes when the world was dark and dreaming and the only sounds that could be
heard were the rustling of animals amongst the street dumpsters or the screeching rats
inside the sewers, and if she reached even further she could hear and feel so much more;
the murmurs of the trees, the solid pride of the rigid mountains, the serenity of the silent
lakes, the whispered secrets of the moon. When all this was real and tangible to her
senses and hers alone, the memories would come back and they brought with them the
irony of the situation. On the last night, that one night that changed everything she had
stood alone.... and afraid. And now, six years later, it is the same. Except that
now there was no longer any fear, but the loneliness, the feeling of standing on the
outside looking in, was permanent.
She could identify feelings..... emotions felt be those who had been around
her that one night. The pain, the love, the betrayal, and above all was her and her rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage that shot thru her veins and froze the blood in them, rage that
made her want to take it all away. Take away the world and all that was in it. Because
they had all been through so much already, they had been hurting too much for too long
and if she took away the world it would all end. But it didn't end and they had all
survived, they had won the battle, yet there was nothing to celebrate. *The paths of glory
lead but to the grave* and if we would follow our triumph it would lead us all to the
graves of all those who died, those who could not celebrate with us.
She should've stopped this self-damnation long ago, but it was the only thing that
made her feel alive these days. On the outside everything was fine; she had good friends,
great career and..... no one to love. She was so alone now only her memories to
accompany her, and she feared this is how it would all end. Her alone. Without anyone
to care for her, because she had missed her chance. That last night had really been the
last, for so many things. Last night of being a bubbly, happy-go-lucky teenager, last
night of having a normal life, last night to tell someone you loved them. And he had
walked away, and she had lost him, because she had been afraid. She was given the rare
opportunity to be happy, something revolutionary, to stop worrying about everything else
and to just be happy. He could've laughed in her face or...... he could've loved
her, but she lost that, because she hesitated. She had been so afraid. Months later she
had promised herself she would never be afraid again, but she was still alone.
This is what I have so far, what do you think? Guess you're wondering whom this
character is? Tell me who you think it is, although I think it's obvious?
This is from a poem by Worthwood, I think. But it's not mine!
P.S. this is a complete story on its own, but it might become series.
By: Crashnburn_021
PG-13 (maybe more later)
[email protected]
Characters belong to L.J Smith; I could never create such beauty. I think I might try
and come up with some characters of my own later.
She remembers them all now. The memories flooding her mind, fragmented
pieces of moments that she thought she had long ago forgotten. But she should have
known better, she should have known that she could never forget. It was just that
sometimes..... sometimes after the sun would set; it would all come back to her.
Sometimes when the world was dark and dreaming and the only sounds that could be
heard were the rustling of animals amongst the street dumpsters or the screeching rats
inside the sewers, and if she reached even further she could hear and feel so much more;
the murmurs of the trees, the solid pride of the rigid mountains, the serenity of the silent
lakes, the whispered secrets of the moon. When all this was real and tangible to her
senses and hers alone, the memories would come back and they brought with them the
irony of the situation. On the last night, that one night that changed everything she had
stood alone.... and afraid. And now, six years later, it is the same. Except that
now there was no longer any fear, but the loneliness, the feeling of standing on the
outside looking in, was permanent.
She could identify feelings..... emotions felt be those who had been around
her that one night. The pain, the love, the betrayal, and above all was her and her rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage that shot thru her veins and froze the blood in them, rage that
made her want to take it all away. Take away the world and all that was in it. Because
they had all been through so much already, they had been hurting too much for too long
and if she took away the world it would all end. But it didn't end and they had all
survived, they had won the battle, yet there was nothing to celebrate. *The paths of glory
lead but to the grave* and if we would follow our triumph it would lead us all to the
graves of all those who died, those who could not celebrate with us.
She should've stopped this self-damnation long ago, but it was the only thing that
made her feel alive these days. On the outside everything was fine; she had good friends,
great career and..... no one to love. She was so alone now only her memories to
accompany her, and she feared this is how it would all end. Her alone. Without anyone
to care for her, because she had missed her chance. That last night had really been the
last, for so many things. Last night of being a bubbly, happy-go-lucky teenager, last
night of having a normal life, last night to tell someone you loved them. And he had
walked away, and she had lost him, because she had been afraid. She was given the rare
opportunity to be happy, something revolutionary, to stop worrying about everything else
and to just be happy. He could've laughed in her face or...... he could've loved
her, but she lost that, because she hesitated. She had been so afraid. Months later she
had promised herself she would never be afraid again, but she was still alone.
This is what I have so far, what do you think? Guess you're wondering whom this
character is? Tell me who you think it is, although I think it's obvious?
This is from a poem by Worthwood, I think. But it's not mine!
P.S. this is a complete story on its own, but it might become series.