ATTENTION:
The following passage may or may not make sense to any of the previous or future posts on this "story". This "story" is merely a mix of exerts from the demented mind of a slightly demonic author. These paragraphs may be compared to, "a twisted, gorier version of the classic Goosebumps stories, only more mind-bottling and suspenseful," as quoted by my own mother. Most end in blood, death, or a cliff-hanger. I'm not promising that you will ever be saved from these cliff-hangers, either. So be prepared for a suspenseful climax, and then shear end, with nothing more than a cold brick wall to slam into. Kind of like jumping off a building, and expecting pavement and death, and only receiving falling for eternity. So, enough rambling. Enjoy, and please leave a review of my story or message me! =)
NOTE:
Also, you may find my present and future stories to be a tad shorter then the previous ones. I will try to keep them just as lengthy as before by adding more detail (what I do best) but these are from a little while ago and I was writing them in my notebook. I only had enough room for one page per story back then, (in the sad days before my beloved OpenOffice!) As I said I will try to keep them the same length as before, but please do not get mad/and or fret if they are shorter than usual. But as always, tell me if you liked them or not, and great news, I now have a Facebook! I will post the link later on for you to find me and add me. I love all who are reading this! =) Write with Passion- enjoy- Rai.
The wind vigorously whipped past her like that of which could easily stir it's brew, and produce a tornado. It effortlessly flung wisps of her warm, mocha colored hair into her line of vision, and tickled her cheeks leaving the urging sensation for her to pull at them, to relieve herself of the pitiful annoyance. The pressure of the wind pounded down quite harshly, and heavily, on her nearly numbed, chilly face, like the pleasurable kisses, and the touch of a lover she craved dearly, and now longed for.
She could still imagine, so fondly to the point that she could almost taste, his last, memorable kiss on the cracked, dry skin that enclosed her lips, daring to try and let anything penetrate it. Nearly all of their warm kisses had been passionate, and, oh, how she loved them that way, but she recalled this one quite fondly and yet, with much effort, as thinking of him at all brought tears to her soft, hazel eyes...
He kissed slowly, with much patience, as he did so in such a manner to bring her the most pleasure physically possible, up the side of her neck, sending eerie, yet passionate chills down her protruding spine. It felt incredibly, insanely, indescribably good to have his moist, warm, luscious lips pressed firmly against her frigid skin, and to know, with great confidence, that these kisses were for her, and solemnly her alone. Her screeching voice was shaky, and dry, but still confident and diligent enough to warn him that she was in dire need of a cool drink. With a reluctant, heaving sigh, he quickly fetched a cool bottle of wine from the cellar, which led from the kitchen, and poured her a shimmering glass. She sipped it timid- yet thankfully- and the rich red drink slipped down her throat with incredible ease. Then he began lightly kissing her again, but this time in different areas, such as on the cheek, nose, and then finally the mouth.
She gripped the back of his head, her fingers grazing along his dirty-blonde hair that desperately needed trimmed, and pulled him ever closer. His thick lips were indulgently sweet, like ever so delicious chocolate, and ravenously addictive, like plump, wild berries. She never wanted to let him slip from this moment...
She confronted herself here. She had to stop. It wasn't healthy to keep reliving the past, hoping one day, you would be able to return to it. She turned the memory off, like a flash light that had once illuminated the gorgeous Mona Lisa. It hurt to turn away, and pretend it all never happened. She wouldn't do that... Not yet... Perhaps not ever, but for now, she had to atleast direct her focus onto another object. Besides, the next memory was too hard... too painful to recall.
Bubbling hot tears streamed down her face, like gushing rivers, until they dripped lightly onto her black petticoat. She gazed down onto the ground, 50 feet below, where his dreaded funeral was taking place. Maybe one day, she would gather herself, with her feelings of remorse, anguish, and sorrow included, and come farther than this cliff...
But that day, was not one coming soon...