Is there something going on?
Is there some secret rebellion against reviewing someone's writing? I, along with other writers, have noticed that there is an extremely significant decrease in reviews and feedback from the readers. It's frustrating and it is saddening. Most of you guys are writers yourself and know the time and effort and thinking and patience it takes to write anything, whether it is a multi-chapter or a one-shot. All of that hard work is worth it, after a simple review. Jen (swinglifeawayxx) also feels the same way. We work hard to continue Fanfiction and due to this situation and other factors, we're just not too sure why we should be continuing this.
When I write Niley, I write for you. When I put my work on this website, I put it out there for you to read and to hopefully enjoy. I don't know if you enjoy it or if you hate it unless I am told and through that, you must review. By reviewing, you're not increasing my numbers or my popularity- you're increasing my satisfaction and the happiness that results from knowing that some person in the world loves what I wrote and appreciates the story I built upon two people that you adore just as much as I do. It takes two seconds, tell me how you feel, and I would gladly send a reply to thank you for your generosity. Because otherwise, there really is no motive for me to continue on this site.
Thank you.
Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
She placed her toes along the blackened shadows, tip toeing across the thin line between reality and her dreams. She had music stuck in her head and it bounced around her in the same fashion as the orange sunlight streaming down from the sky. The sun was blowing down from beneath its hazy veil; sunset sparkles and sunset smogs. She closed her eyes and smiled. She knew he wasn't far behind.
"What's the rush!" he yelled with his fists cupped around his mouth. She looked over her shoulder with a smile and a sigh.
"There is none," she answered back, her voice projecting off of every hilltop and tree. She watched him with her big eyes as he walked closer with a sagging sapling branch dragging behind him. It left a long, thin line in the mud. When he reached her, his free arm swung over her shoulder and she naturally leant into his body and his warm jacket. She breathed him in with the scent of wintry air that chilled her to the bone and then slid her cold and cracked hand into his back pocket. They stood, attatched, in the middle of the barren street.
"Look at that sunset," he commented gently, "Gorgeous, right?"
It was beautiful, she thought. A painting of pinks and oranges and light lavender washed across the early evening sky. It was warm, but the outside air was cold; that single shimmer of light that was slowly slipping down the gray-beaten sky brightened up December. A thin line of silver sketched itself around the linings of the clouds- a silver lining to her life, her reputation, her romance, her love. She had never seen it look quite as similar as it had always appeared in her dreams.
They drew their attention back to themselves and whispered illogical phrases of fondness to each other. He smoothed her hair and she counted the freckles that dot his neck. They kept on walking down that street until they came to the end where the pavement rounded into a half moon. She felt so happy with Nick; sometimes it scared her, most of the time it didn't. June was the last time they did something like this, together and alone- when their jetski crashed through the waves and the Tybee Island waters tickled her eyes. It was a bit different now, but they always helplessly fall back to where they left off. Nothing but time has the power to destroy them.
They sat down against a thick tree with its golden leaves crinkling above their heads. He unwound his arm from around her waist and held his hands between his bent knees. He wonders why they acted like they were in love. They had gone down that shaky road one too many times, ultimately ending in a pain so vivid they could draw it out. Love is clearly just a part of their past. But they walk into the sunsets and sleep on barn roofs and they continue to act, to hide, to love. He wonders if that's a good idea.
She rested her head against the tree trunk and squeezed her eyes tight. "You're my best friend," she admitted, "But I don't think I ever told you that."
"You never did," he stared at his hands and twisted his fingers, "But I already knew."
She nodded her head as if he just convinced her of something she greatly approved. The sun continued to slide down the dark blue sky, emanating a royal glow. It was a fireball. Every minute it was more and more gone, until it was only an orange splendor between the trees. She knew she was kidding herself; she knew she would spend her entire lifetime with him as her fading fantasy. She would, but she shouldn't. And they could, but they won't. Summer was a long time ago. She was only his summerfly and that is all she will ever be.
But sister you know I'm so weary
And you know sister
My hearts been broken
Sometimes my mind is too strong to carry on
She thought she saw Jesus when they walked back. It was dark and the air was stiff and suffocating as they left the woods behind, but she saw him, she did. He was crouching behind a tree, his face was handsome and his eyes were the deepest, unknown color she had ever seen. He smiled at her with grace and purity, and then disappeared into the woods; leaving her with her hands out to touch and her soul open to forgive. From then on, until they reached town, she felt something following them. But maybe it was just a deer.
"Do you wanna stop someplace to grab a drink or something?" he asked. Their shadows skipped through the dwindling glow of the lamp posts. Only a few shops were still open, the rest looked dark had closed signs dangling on the doorknobs.
"Sure," she replied, so they veered to the left and stepped inside the gas station store.
The immediate heat flushed their cheeks and their fingers tingled. There was a middle-aged woman sitting on a stool at the register, smacking gum with her bright red lips, reading an outdated beauty magazine, crossing and uncrossing her legs. A heavy southern accent rolled off her tongue when she spoke. She reminded Miley of her Godmother.
The two of them crept towards the refrigerators that hummed and whined with a low pitch drone. Nick yanked open the sticky glass door and pulled out two glass bottles of diet coke. Miley grabbed a small bag of gummy worms for the rest of the walk home and set it down on the counter with the sodas.
The woman eyed them from above her magazine and smiled as she placed it down. Her southern drawl was blotted out by the cash register beeps as she rung up each item. "How are-" -beep- "ya'll-" -beep- "doing tonight" -beep.
"Fine," they answered at the same time. They giggled and her glittery eyes sparkled at him.
Nick paid and picked up their things, and headed to the door. She yelled goodbye and Miley looked back to see her in the same exact position she was in when they arrived. She couldn't decide whether that was a lifestyle she pitied, or one she would enjoy.
They stepped back into the raw chill and cigarette smoke that strangely launched her on a confident buzz. It was as if the mixed air had snaked its way inside her and rattled through her brain. She looked beside her and saw Nick who was bent over his soda bottle, frustrating himself by attempting to pry off the bottle cap with his chapped fingertips. The flickering gas station lights shimmered down on him, creating this warm yellow glow. She closed her eyes and pressed her eager lips to his open mouth until he pulled away baffled.
"Why'd you do that?" he exasperated, holding back the crimson from invading his cheeks.
"Well why not?" she replied. She had acted before she thought rationally, but this old feeling within her suddenly made her feel floaty.
"Because you just told me just an hour ago that we were best friends."
"And who says best friends can't kiss?" she smiled and started to walk to the barely-lit street. Nick stood there silently, staring at her, wanting her. It was as if something external just clicked on like a switch and whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn't stop. He swallowed hard, wiped his mind clear of the fog that just clouded his thought, and ran after her with the soda bottles and the gummy worms rattling inside the plastic bag.
When I am alone
When I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone
When I've lost all care for the things I own
That's when I miss you, that's when I miss you, that's when I miss you
She stumbled up the creaking floorboards in the darkness of the night. Her eyes glowed green and her hair tangled itself around her neck as she carried the sodas and snacks up to her bedroom. Music pumped through the walls and seeped through the cracks, putting a smile on her face. She tried to move her hair out of her eyes and kicked open the door.
"I brought the stuff," she announced to Nick who was sitting at the edge of her bed with her dusty guitar in his hands.
"This thing is so out of tune," he mumbled. He fussed with the strings, tightening and loosening them until they took on the same sound as the song pumping out of the stereo. Miley released her things onto the bed and the bottles clattered into a symphony. She sat down behind him and looked out the open window where the moon cradled the stars; where it was beaming down on the world and making shadows dance in the trees. She imagined a scene more beautiful than this.
He continued to concentrate on his guitar and his music with his head bent into the light of the single bedside lamp. Miley watched him, finding great relief in knowing that she had found someone who relies on music to carry them-self through the day just as much as she does. She allowed her chin to rest on his shoulder and close her eyes as he sang to her with a voice that could tie down the sun. She remembered the days when they'd do this when everything was wrong and it was the only thing that seemed right. But now was strangely different.. as if time had actually repaired them.
Her heart was still on her sleeve when he clicked off the stereo and placed the guitar down. A complete silence overwhelmed the room. Crickets chattered their legs outside but with no wind to carry the noise; the stars snickered soundless secrets. And she couldn't feel anything until his shoulder left her chin and he eased himself around the bed so that he was facing her, with crossed legs and a disconnected mind. And then he kissed her.
He kissed her with so much ambition that it sent her souring out the window and back. Without protest, she pressed herself against him and let him say what he wanted to say in actions, not words. His fingers touched her face and he brought his lips to the top of her neck, not caring if it was a bad idea but knowing that it was a good one. Sometimes forgiveness was best played out as fault and Nick knew that this longing, this brilliance, this feeling he felt around her was anything but a sin- it was their story. It was their story that was meant to be told, but the writers kept finding interruptions and distractions within the petty world they lived in. So he stopped and they reclaimed their thoughts, so that maybe, just maybe, they could finish this chapter with an agreeable ending.
She laughed as he wrapped her in a blanket right up to her nose and reached behind her to grab the sodas. He pushed open the window as high as it would go and climbed through with Miley embracing his hand. They lied down on the roof with the blanket thrown over them and sipped at their cokes as the chill of the bleak air bit at their toes. They held on to each other through the night with the starry sky blanketing them and watching over them. They would not be forgotten until the Orange Sky grew into the day and washed new golden dreams onto the bodies of old love and lengthened the road where their salvation lies. Not just a Summerfly anymore.
Yes I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
With my brother and my sister standing by
So how do you feel?