Read my story that I'm working on, and please review! Tell me if you think it's good or bad, and please be honest! I can change things!
ROUGH DRAFT OF: GRAVITY?
WRITTEN AND CLAIMED BY ME hehe
Gravity shifts. Whether or not you notice, everything can change in one moment, best friends can become enemies, and worst enemies can become true friends. You know that old saying, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer? Don't take it for granted. Don't let anyone close to you slip away, because gravity shifts when you lose that person.
Eventually you could end up where I am. Of course you don't know who I am, or where I am. Here's a little insight. I'm female. You would describe me as sarcastic and crudely honest IF you knew me. I'm currently writing this while resting on a house's roof, for reasons I am truly too lazy and busy to explain to anyone.
Cars rush by in swirls and blurs below my watchful eyes, and luminous figures hang within the street corners, continuing on with their hepatic lives, clearly unaware of the shadow above, observing everything. I sigh, as the cold gush of air drifts through my lungs and fills my nostrils, tickling them lightly.
I feel light headed and exuberant, like the air alone is a drug, and I want nothing but to breath it in hour after hour, for as long as possible, at least. What if I were to say you were never supposed to actually read this, and the person discovering this manuscript, is deeply deprived of any actual sincerity or conscience, because I did in fact include a note warning the poor unfortunate soul to stumble across this composition.
Who really knows how this writing and knowledge has come to me, someone could have been jogging along the beach, wind in his/her face, and the cold august air rushing against their blood shot eyes, like the way I feel now, free.
When in fact but a merely harmless wave, but pulled in a stained leather binding covered in nothing but ink. This person might in fact choose to leave the uninteresting wreck of a diary upon the growing tides, but in fact they do however pick it up and put it safely in their pocket, continuing along, like nothing ever happened, surely going to forget all about the precious artifact.
Years go by and this book could end up in a good will, with cute little children, running carelessly, blessed as they are. They snicker as they read the scribbled out, ink-stained pages, and can only imagine the scenarios and imagination of the author of this humorous journal. A boy stuffs the book in his suit case before leaving his foster home with a new foreign family, hoping for a good laugh sometime, when appropriately needed at worst case scenario.
Upon the years, the boy has grown up inspired and fascinated by all, working his way through life, and enjoying the joyous rewards of it all, when but a fatal accident is but to harshly end everything. As the
man's home and personal belongings are collected, seeing as he never was the type for a family, a young woman of intellectuality and beauty is to but discover the simple pages of this dear piece. Her eyes sparkle with fascination as she turns the pages gently under the glowing embers of a flashlight, on long winter nights.
As the woman grows old the book is packed away like all others, but is truly unique. Over the years it sits, collecting dust in the dark shadows of a deep, dark, and unbelievably creepy attic. Decades later little old me happens to move in, after the terrible deaths of my innocent parental figures, and discover this mere piece of alliterate object.
Noise is blocked out from the world as I think to myself, humming along to the non-existent beat whirling like gears in my head. A loud noise pierces my sleepy state, shaking me awake, and I slowly turn my head to the chewed up, slobber induced, football, with obvious uninterest.
"Hey Freak, throw the football!" his hands gleam with beads of perspiration, matching his ensemble quite naturally. I turn away facing the neighbors roof.
"You give it back you freak!" the boy chuckled with his friends as he teased me. I sighed and jumped to my feet, grabbing the grass-stained object with ease. My arm shot out and in seconds the football had struck a blow to the boy's chest causing him to fall back in shock. Their eyes were on me, slightly surprised.
They rushed off muttering to each other, as I looked to the sky, hoping for a huge tornado to crash down and suck me up right there.