I'm entering this in a comp, has to have a Christian moral at the end. Anyway, it's not going to be anywhere below the 1500 word limit, so I thought, "screw it, i'll loose the five points." Anyway, the story's below, and i'm kinda stuck. Quick overview: Her best friend has AIDS, dies, main character's boyfriend takes her to a party to comfort her, he goes too far though, but main character stops him before anything can happen, she breaks it up really harshly, she gets all depressed, ready to commit suicide, but finds note left by dead friend about God (Cause she was a Christian), and is consoled, and everyone lives happily ever after (Except Casey, who's already dead, but you know what I mean). Well, my teacher has to approve of it first, so the rough draft has to be in in two weeks. I need somewhere to go from here. It feels like I'm rushing it if she's going to suddenly die, so what can I put to fill it in? Help?
A/N: Yes, it'll sound try-hard and like I think I'm awesome at it even though I'm not, but 1: I'm an aspiring young 14 year old author and 2: It's only a rough copy.
I don't sound much like a goth in this, do I? Well, I'm trying. It's written from the perspective of a 16 year old gothy/depressed girl, and I stuck in a few quotes from other places, they'll be in italics. Here it is:
PERSECUTIONS OF MY TORTURED SOUL
By Mark Harris
March 17, 2oo5
God. Who is he? The bitter torment of the question still plagues my existence. Or at least, it should be an existence. I’m a misplaced spirit stuck in the body of a girl, and I’ve been trapped on this planet for sixteen years and slowly wasting away. My name is unimportant, as is my meaningless and insignificant life. I feel hollow and empty. At least I feel something.
As I scribble down this testimonial of my life, I wonder. What am I missing? Everyone around me, they’re all wrong! They believe that some magical god will bless them all. I hate mum when she makes me go to church. This whole community seems to believe in this god. Ooo, I’m going to church. And then I’m going to pray to the ‘wonderful savior who saved my sins.’ Guess what? Hate to break your wonderful comfortable lives, but there is no ‘God.’ No ‘forgiveness for our sins.’ Life is sorrow, if anything at all. No, I’m not missing out on anything.
Then there’s my ‘optimistic’ best friend Casey. She has, unfortunately, given in to the conventional ways of this despondent heart-bleed called society. And now she’s after my sorry soul. She’s always so happy and joyful, jumping around about ‘God.’ Casey always says stuff like, ‘Give yourself to him and you’ll be happy,’ or, ‘don’t you want to feel eternal happiness?’ Well Casey, answer me this: how come nothing happy has ever happened for me? What has that stupid god of yours done for this lost mind? There’s no pot at gold at the end of the rainbow. There is no rainbow. Or at least, not for me…
‘Wake me up inside. Call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run. Before I come undone. Save me from the nothing I’ve become… Breathe into me and make me real. Bring me to life.’ 1
March 24, 2oo5
Ironic, isn’t it? You look at this blank sheet of paper and think it’s completely useless. It’s empty. Not until I start writing on it. Then it has something to make its completeness. Something to make it useful. Maybe that’s like me. I’m just an empty shell until someone can write on me, and then I have a purpose. My insides are screaming out for guidance, but no one hears my pathetic cry. Then again, maybe Casey’s right. Maybe I’m not letting anything in.
‘Can’t find yourself. Lost in your mind…’ 2
Today is ‘Good Friday.’ Nothing good about it. What’s so special about today anyway? Why should I care about what some criminal did two thousand years ago? Today is nothing more a large commercializing propaganda. The only thing that has made today worthwhile is that Kyle’s back. My boyfriend Kyle-the only one who truly understands the grief that is my life. You could almost say he makes me feel happy.
I’ve missed Kyle so much. The feeling of his warmth against me as he holds me close somehow made me feel…well good. Like me, Kyle sees that life is pain and anguish and he can properly relate to me. I think I might be in love. Is it love when you can’t imagine life without the other person? When, if you didn’t have them, there would be no point to anything? I love Kyle, and he loves me. It might, no it MUST be love.
‘To love someone is nothing, to be loved by someone is something, but to be
loved by the one you love is everything.’ 3
March 3o, 2oo5
Casey’s been going all weird on me lately. Today during lunch, Casey was standing in the line. Queuing for salisbury steak. Personally, I hate the stuff. The thought of consuming another being that once had active life is just, well horrific. But that’s besides my point. I was sitting down at the table across from the line, trying to overcome the question of what I could eat today. Suddenly, I heard a loud clutter coming from the line. Casey had dropped her tray and started crying for no reason. For some reason, I felt compelled to follow her as she ran screaming into the girl’s bathroom. When I got in there though, she was just sobbing pitifully in one of the cubicles, and she wouldn’t talk to me about it.
I don’t know why I wanted to help her. Later that day though, she was a wreck. Her emerald eyes were damp with tears, and her blonde hair was strewn all across her face. I never realized before, but I think I’ve always had an inner envy for Casey. I mean, she’s the most beautiful girl at her school, and I’m just…me. I’m living in her silhouette. She’s got such a happy life, what with her ‘God’ and her loving family and her really popular boyfriend, Steve, and…well, you get the picture. No one else seems to care much for me. Dad-I haven’t seen him since he walked out mum 12 years ago. And all my mum seems to care about is that stupid jerk of a boyfriend she has. I don’t like him. To be honest, I’m scared of him. When it’s just him and me alone, I’ve seen him stare at my chest with that smuck grin on his face. That grin that creases every wrinkle on his left cheek, makes him slightly raise his eyebrows, and lets his eyes drill into you like a knife…the same grin he had when mum told him dad hadn’t been seen for over a decade. The face of lust…
A/N: Yes, it'll sound try-hard and like I think I'm awesome at it even though I'm not, but 1: I'm an aspiring young 14 year old author and 2: It's only a rough copy.
I don't sound much like a goth in this, do I? Well, I'm trying. It's written from the perspective of a 16 year old gothy/depressed girl, and I stuck in a few quotes from other places, they'll be in italics. Here it is:
PERSECUTIONS OF MY TORTURED SOUL
By Mark Harris
March 17, 2oo5
God. Who is he? The bitter torment of the question still plagues my existence. Or at least, it should be an existence. I’m a misplaced spirit stuck in the body of a girl, and I’ve been trapped on this planet for sixteen years and slowly wasting away. My name is unimportant, as is my meaningless and insignificant life. I feel hollow and empty. At least I feel something.
As I scribble down this testimonial of my life, I wonder. What am I missing? Everyone around me, they’re all wrong! They believe that some magical god will bless them all. I hate mum when she makes me go to church. This whole community seems to believe in this god. Ooo, I’m going to church. And then I’m going to pray to the ‘wonderful savior who saved my sins.’ Guess what? Hate to break your wonderful comfortable lives, but there is no ‘God.’ No ‘forgiveness for our sins.’ Life is sorrow, if anything at all. No, I’m not missing out on anything.
Then there’s my ‘optimistic’ best friend Casey. She has, unfortunately, given in to the conventional ways of this despondent heart-bleed called society. And now she’s after my sorry soul. She’s always so happy and joyful, jumping around about ‘God.’ Casey always says stuff like, ‘Give yourself to him and you’ll be happy,’ or, ‘don’t you want to feel eternal happiness?’ Well Casey, answer me this: how come nothing happy has ever happened for me? What has that stupid god of yours done for this lost mind? There’s no pot at gold at the end of the rainbow. There is no rainbow. Or at least, not for me…
‘Wake me up inside. Call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run. Before I come undone. Save me from the nothing I’ve become… Breathe into me and make me real. Bring me to life.’ 1
March 24, 2oo5
Ironic, isn’t it? You look at this blank sheet of paper and think it’s completely useless. It’s empty. Not until I start writing on it. Then it has something to make its completeness. Something to make it useful. Maybe that’s like me. I’m just an empty shell until someone can write on me, and then I have a purpose. My insides are screaming out for guidance, but no one hears my pathetic cry. Then again, maybe Casey’s right. Maybe I’m not letting anything in.
‘Can’t find yourself. Lost in your mind…’ 2
Today is ‘Good Friday.’ Nothing good about it. What’s so special about today anyway? Why should I care about what some criminal did two thousand years ago? Today is nothing more a large commercializing propaganda. The only thing that has made today worthwhile is that Kyle’s back. My boyfriend Kyle-the only one who truly understands the grief that is my life. You could almost say he makes me feel happy.
I’ve missed Kyle so much. The feeling of his warmth against me as he holds me close somehow made me feel…well good. Like me, Kyle sees that life is pain and anguish and he can properly relate to me. I think I might be in love. Is it love when you can’t imagine life without the other person? When, if you didn’t have them, there would be no point to anything? I love Kyle, and he loves me. It might, no it MUST be love.
‘To love someone is nothing, to be loved by someone is something, but to be
loved by the one you love is everything.’ 3
March 3o, 2oo5
Casey’s been going all weird on me lately. Today during lunch, Casey was standing in the line. Queuing for salisbury steak. Personally, I hate the stuff. The thought of consuming another being that once had active life is just, well horrific. But that’s besides my point. I was sitting down at the table across from the line, trying to overcome the question of what I could eat today. Suddenly, I heard a loud clutter coming from the line. Casey had dropped her tray and started crying for no reason. For some reason, I felt compelled to follow her as she ran screaming into the girl’s bathroom. When I got in there though, she was just sobbing pitifully in one of the cubicles, and she wouldn’t talk to me about it.
I don’t know why I wanted to help her. Later that day though, she was a wreck. Her emerald eyes were damp with tears, and her blonde hair was strewn all across her face. I never realized before, but I think I’ve always had an inner envy for Casey. I mean, she’s the most beautiful girl at her school, and I’m just…me. I’m living in her silhouette. She’s got such a happy life, what with her ‘God’ and her loving family and her really popular boyfriend, Steve, and…well, you get the picture. No one else seems to care much for me. Dad-I haven’t seen him since he walked out mum 12 years ago. And all my mum seems to care about is that stupid jerk of a boyfriend she has. I don’t like him. To be honest, I’m scared of him. When it’s just him and me alone, I’ve seen him stare at my chest with that smuck grin on his face. That grin that creases every wrinkle on his left cheek, makes him slightly raise his eyebrows, and lets his eyes drill into you like a knife…the same grin he had when mum told him dad hadn’t been seen for over a decade. The face of lust…