By: Crashnburn_021
PG-13 (maybe more later)
Crashnburn_021@yahoo.com
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.