A/N: Thanks for the review and as for the sun rising thing.. It's okay..
My comp didn't say it was wrong when I did spell/grammar check it didn't
come up so when I reread it, I skipped over it but thanks anyway... I'd
like to thank my LP CD for this chapter because while writing it I was
listening to it..* mumbles about how bands/music was taken from the
selection* Well anyway here is chapter 7..
Memories
As sunrays hit my flesh, it warms my body. No, I don't burst into flames
like the stereotype. The sun isn't pleasant but it doesn't hurt me. It
might be annoying at times but that's only because I am used to the night.
But the more you stay out in it the more you get used to it.
I walk down the street the city becomes clearer. Unlike the night there are
not many predators that lurk during the day. Most who do stay out are weak
cuz the strong are rather pleased with the night and sleep during the day
to rest their eyes.
I'm not saying I'm weak but far from that. If you can with stand the day
while staying strong during the night, then that shows courage. So those
who stay out during the day I applaud them for their efforts.
The once brightly-lit streetlights are now turned off to let the sun
naturally light the streets and save its energy for the up coming night.
People are calmer during the day. No more fighting or arguments. It's
rather peaceful here now that the sun is up.
My walk is safer than usual but looks can be deceiving. If it were actually
safe, would I be here? Nope.
Most of you would think I'm cocky but I'm not. I just speak the truth. Is
it wrong of me to do so? People say to tell them the truth but they don't
really want that. The truth hurts and it's not pretty.
I continue my walk as normal without any interruptions until I reach my
destination. Home. How sweet is it to be home.
I push open the door to reveal my once empty room, but instead of being
empty there's a small, leather-covered notebook sitting on the coffee
table. Walking up to the dusty table, my fingers skim over the notebook.
Cautiously I sit on the table next to the book. Before picking up the well-
worn out notebook, I stare at it longingly as if afraid to open long
forgotten memories. Yes, I know who's this notebook is and what it
contents.
Untying the leather band that keeps it close, I open it closing my eyes
shut. The familiar flows through the air hitting my like brick wall making
me closing it instantly. I stand marching up stairs to my room for my
privacy. I throw the notebook onto my bed. Pacing throughout my room, I
debate weather or not to read the contents of what hides within the leather
bindings of that notebook. I pull the balcony doors shut and push the
currents close to insure the solitude of my room.
Gradually, I make my way over to my bed. I crawl into the bed sitting in
the center for a better prospective of my surroundings. Pickling up the
notebook once more, I open it.
A simple sigh escapes my lips, forcing myself to finger though the dry
crisp pages of the book. I stop finding myself staring at one page. The ink
is well dry by now but still legible.
Land of Loneliness October 12, 1646
No one there
Everyone is gone
The darkness cover the light
The sun is no more
A single teardrop rolls down the cheek of someone unknown
Footsteps are heard but no one is there
Drip Drip Drip
The rain falls into nothingness
Ignorance is the key to life
If you can't hear it nor see it
Then it didn't happen
But there are times you can't ignore the sounds in the darkness
They flood like a river slowly creeping upon you
You look but nothing is there
You try to listen but there's no sound
The land of loneliness
Where a soul can come and be alone
There's no light
Just darkness covering a world
That's not even there.
I flip pass a couple more pages before coming across a familiar date.
I Can't August 10, 1647
I can't feel
So there's no life
I can't see
But there's light
You say you'll be there
And you're not
So what should I tell you
When I'm not
Turning the next page.
A Wish of Death August 11, 1647
I'm here
Living this pain
I don't belong here
I don't want to be here
I hate my life
I can't stand it
Anymore
I want to be left alone
Why am I here
I only feel pain
I'm so unhappy
Sometimes I wish
I would die
But then I don't want to.
"The say I was changed," I mumble silently to myself.
I quickly skim over the next dates before coming across the last recognized
date.
It's Not Sudden May 15, 1686
Death is not sudden
It Keeps going and Never stops
It comes in many waves
Taking bits and pieces of you
You can't feel it,
You can't stop it
You must go one day
You can't stay
When you leave I will stay
The waves form around me
Not letting me go
Full of sorrow,
Full of pain
It forms a cloud of darkness
It comforts me
Leaving me here to see
The world how I see fit
Death is not sudden
It comes in waves
Taking Bits and pieces of
Your Soul.
Before closing it back shut, something catches my eye.
Eyes Watching you November 13, 2003
We live in a world of hurt and pain
No one fears the weak
But walk all over them
Behind every shadow is someone looking at you
Studying you
Carefully taking notes of your every movement
The paranoia that lurks inside of you
May not be just in your head
Something that screams out
Distrust!
Don't look back!
Beware!
It might be right
Because in every corner
There is someone
Someone you least expect
Someone who you might think is weak
Is watching you and you don't even know it.
The ink on this page isn't even dried yet before I tear it out in a fierce
rage.
Shredding it in tiny pieces, I crumble it up and toss it in the trash.
'How dare someone go through my belongings and intrude upon my property? My
privacy' I growl out anger.
I change in a hurry. Wearing a pair of dark black pants and a charcoal top,
I storm out of my house and will my way to Red Rock. I find a secluded
house in the bundle of trees.
Barging it I find the house empty of all its patriots. I sit right in the
center of the floor waiting for someone to enter. I'm not about to go
looking for them. I'll let them come to me.
Hours pass by but no sign of life. As the sun is about to rise, the door
swings up and walks in the vampire that I am looking for.
He looks at me with disbelief.
With a stern serious expression, I slam the notebook on the floor making a
loud bang. "Did you have anything do with this?"
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
A/N: Okay.. Just for those who want to know.. The poems in the selection of
above are mind so please don't steal them.. They are MY personal thoughts.
I might write one more chapter and stop writing. It seems pointless. No one
is really reading it. No offense to the ones who are.. I do appreciate it..
But I don't get a lot of reviews. So I'm debating on weather or not to stop
writing at all right now..
My comp didn't say it was wrong when I did spell/grammar check it didn't
come up so when I reread it, I skipped over it but thanks anyway... I'd
like to thank my LP CD for this chapter because while writing it I was
listening to it..* mumbles about how bands/music was taken from the
selection* Well anyway here is chapter 7..
Memories
As sunrays hit my flesh, it warms my body. No, I don't burst into flames
like the stereotype. The sun isn't pleasant but it doesn't hurt me. It
might be annoying at times but that's only because I am used to the night.
But the more you stay out in it the more you get used to it.
I walk down the street the city becomes clearer. Unlike the night there are
not many predators that lurk during the day. Most who do stay out are weak
cuz the strong are rather pleased with the night and sleep during the day
to rest their eyes.
I'm not saying I'm weak but far from that. If you can with stand the day
while staying strong during the night, then that shows courage. So those
who stay out during the day I applaud them for their efforts.
The once brightly-lit streetlights are now turned off to let the sun
naturally light the streets and save its energy for the up coming night.
People are calmer during the day. No more fighting or arguments. It's
rather peaceful here now that the sun is up.
My walk is safer than usual but looks can be deceiving. If it were actually
safe, would I be here? Nope.
Most of you would think I'm cocky but I'm not. I just speak the truth. Is
it wrong of me to do so? People say to tell them the truth but they don't
really want that. The truth hurts and it's not pretty.
I continue my walk as normal without any interruptions until I reach my
destination. Home. How sweet is it to be home.
I push open the door to reveal my once empty room, but instead of being
empty there's a small, leather-covered notebook sitting on the coffee
table. Walking up to the dusty table, my fingers skim over the notebook.
Cautiously I sit on the table next to the book. Before picking up the well-
worn out notebook, I stare at it longingly as if afraid to open long
forgotten memories. Yes, I know who's this notebook is and what it
contents.
Untying the leather band that keeps it close, I open it closing my eyes
shut. The familiar flows through the air hitting my like brick wall making
me closing it instantly. I stand marching up stairs to my room for my
privacy. I throw the notebook onto my bed. Pacing throughout my room, I
debate weather or not to read the contents of what hides within the leather
bindings of that notebook. I pull the balcony doors shut and push the
currents close to insure the solitude of my room.
Gradually, I make my way over to my bed. I crawl into the bed sitting in
the center for a better prospective of my surroundings. Pickling up the
notebook once more, I open it.
A simple sigh escapes my lips, forcing myself to finger though the dry
crisp pages of the book. I stop finding myself staring at one page. The ink
is well dry by now but still legible.
Land of Loneliness October 12, 1646
No one there
Everyone is gone
The darkness cover the light
The sun is no more
A single teardrop rolls down the cheek of someone unknown
Footsteps are heard but no one is there
Drip Drip Drip
The rain falls into nothingness
Ignorance is the key to life
If you can't hear it nor see it
Then it didn't happen
But there are times you can't ignore the sounds in the darkness
They flood like a river slowly creeping upon you
You look but nothing is there
You try to listen but there's no sound
The land of loneliness
Where a soul can come and be alone
There's no light
Just darkness covering a world
That's not even there.
I flip pass a couple more pages before coming across a familiar date.
I Can't August 10, 1647
I can't feel
So there's no life
I can't see
But there's light
You say you'll be there
And you're not
So what should I tell you
When I'm not
Turning the next page.
A Wish of Death August 11, 1647
I'm here
Living this pain
I don't belong here
I don't want to be here
I hate my life
I can't stand it
Anymore
I want to be left alone
Why am I here
I only feel pain
I'm so unhappy
Sometimes I wish
I would die
But then I don't want to.
"The say I was changed," I mumble silently to myself.
I quickly skim over the next dates before coming across the last recognized
date.
It's Not Sudden May 15, 1686
Death is not sudden
It Keeps going and Never stops
It comes in many waves
Taking bits and pieces of you
You can't feel it,
You can't stop it
You must go one day
You can't stay
When you leave I will stay
The waves form around me
Not letting me go
Full of sorrow,
Full of pain
It forms a cloud of darkness
It comforts me
Leaving me here to see
The world how I see fit
Death is not sudden
It comes in waves
Taking Bits and pieces of
Your Soul.
Before closing it back shut, something catches my eye.
Eyes Watching you November 13, 2003
We live in a world of hurt and pain
No one fears the weak
But walk all over them
Behind every shadow is someone looking at you
Studying you
Carefully taking notes of your every movement
The paranoia that lurks inside of you
May not be just in your head
Something that screams out
Distrust!
Don't look back!
Beware!
It might be right
Because in every corner
There is someone
Someone you least expect
Someone who you might think is weak
Is watching you and you don't even know it.
The ink on this page isn't even dried yet before I tear it out in a fierce
rage.
Shredding it in tiny pieces, I crumble it up and toss it in the trash.
'How dare someone go through my belongings and intrude upon my property? My
privacy' I growl out anger.
I change in a hurry. Wearing a pair of dark black pants and a charcoal top,
I storm out of my house and will my way to Red Rock. I find a secluded
house in the bundle of trees.
Barging it I find the house empty of all its patriots. I sit right in the
center of the floor waiting for someone to enter. I'm not about to go
looking for them. I'll let them come to me.
Hours pass by but no sign of life. As the sun is about to rise, the door
swings up and walks in the vampire that I am looking for.
He looks at me with disbelief.
With a stern serious expression, I slam the notebook on the floor making a
loud bang. "Did you have anything do with this?"
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
A/N: Okay.. Just for those who want to know.. The poems in the selection of
above are mind so please don't steal them.. They are MY personal thoughts.
I might write one more chapter and stop writing. It seems pointless. No one
is really reading it. No offense to the ones who are.. I do appreciate it..
But I don't get a lot of reviews. So I'm debating on weather or not to stop
writing at all right now..