Jade
- Reads 74
- Votes 9
- Parts 4
Ongoing9m
Last published Fri, Dec 8, 2017
I've known of her for awhile, six years maybe more, and I never hear her voice anymore, but I read her poems and admire her art.
She looks at me with those big hazel eyes. She still for awhile and then goes back to the notebook. She looked me dead in the eyes, that wasn't normal, even on a good day. This isn't the first time we had a moment like this though, each time the staring contest lasting longer. I haven't tried to talk to her, it's pretty hard to get her attention because she seems to always be beyond the world around her, like her mind isn't here, like she's in some other world.
•••This is my first book, I'm not that great of a writer but I try. Hope you enjoy the story.^ ^•••
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The corner of his mouth tilts upward slightly. I smile again. A smile!? A tiny one, but still. "Hm. So I got you to smile, that's progress, yeah? Can I get your name now?" I ask, swinging my feel a little. He shakes his head shyly, his mouth not moving at all. Geez! Why do I want to hear this dude talk so much? "Okay, that's fine. I can give you a nickname." I offer happily. He looks up from his book, raising his eyebrows. I just stare for a moment. He has nice eyes. Pretty brown chocolate orbs. They remind me so much of....... "Teddy." He shakes his head immediately, frowning. "What, why not? You remind me of my old teddy bear. He was a good listener and he didn't talk much..... just like you." I say softly, tilting my head. He continues to shake his head. I fold my arms, leaning back in my seat. "Yeah, it's definitely sticking. Teddy.....It has a nice ring to it, yeah?" He sighs, the first sound I have ever heard him make. "No." . . . *Jordan* Teddy!? Seriously!? She gave me a fucking NICKNAME!? What the hell does this girl want!? I stuff my hands into my pockets, walking down the busy street. Forget about her. She's just a annoying pretty girl, she'll go away. Everybody does. She HAS to go away. *Spoiler alert*: she doesn't. Don't get close to people or they'll end up getting hurt. That's my mindset. I've been through enough of that. This girl doesn't belong in my world anyway. She's too innocent. *Mature content* {Just a quick update, I am basically rewriting the story. I wrote it when I was in 8th grade and it makes me cringe every time I try to go back and edit it so keep in mind that it'll get better}Complete
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I was standing in the middle of the fire, whispering to the fire that always answered. Letting it grow and dance the way it wanted to. It was weird to have all of this fire around you and not have it burn or touch your fragile skin. With each match and whisper the fire grew, but yells found my ears. My name was screamed into the smoke. No, there couldn't be anyone here? I thought I was alone. I am always alone. This is Hazel, she is a normal girl who has a normal life. She doesn't fit in, anywhere, and her parents have forgotten she was there. Typical teenage world. Until the day she finds out about her ex. His shirt and his blood are found, and something abnormal starts to form. She goes out and tries to figure out whats happening. Will she find that another group of species, thought to be fantasy, exist?Complete
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"It's like . . . you know how at the end of summer camp or college everyone packs all their stuff up and drives off before you so they can go home and reunite with family, and the whole camp is empty and you're standing in the middle of your vacant dorm because your ride isn't here yet?" ". . . Yeah?" "It's like that. Immortality is being left behind at camp alone, and you don't know why." She couldn't remember her name. Didn't really matter, plenty of substitutes available. They almost numbered the amount of years she'd been in this world. Luckily for her, there was one reason she was still here, and as soon as she figured out what the hell it was she could fix it and move on. He remembered her. And what she looked like, how she took her coffee, everything. He couldn't get her out of his head. She was his muse, a glimpse into the impossible where he may finally have something to write about. But what happens when inspiration turns into love, especially with someone who is unable to reciprocate it? Does tragedy or intimacy await them? What is destiny, really?
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