Category Archives: Writing

Experiments in third person

It’s short, but it’s something. Will probably be continued in snapshots and shtuff.

“Hey, it’s Kaitlynn, right?” Said the boy, throwing himself on the plastic chair next to her.
“Um, yeah. But most people call me Mousey.” She said.
“Why?” He asked.
She frowned, as if nobody ever asked her that before. “It was an inside joke, but then it caught on. I guess I just look like a Mousey.”
He smiled. “I’m Roger. And it’s the first day and we’re both outside the heads office.”
She grinned. “Hey, I’m just getting welcomed. What’s your deal?”
“That would be telling.” He said, but she didn’t really need to ask. She could smell the smoke.
She made a tsk sound with her tongue, and laughed.
“Kaitlynn Anderson?”
“That’s me.” She said, standing up.
Roger looked up at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”

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Tick. Tick. Squeak. & A wish.

It’s been a while. Again. I have so much shit going on in my life atm. So have a crappy poem!

one or two wishes,
came true,
with one smile,
two tiny kisses,
three words,
and me
and you.

Told you it was crappy. :)This next piece has terrible language and equally terrible cliches. Try not to snicker too hard at my inability. 🙂

Tick. Tick. Squeak. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Squeak. The sound was as steady as a metronome. A smile flit across my face.
“Will you stop that?” Snapped Josie.
“Sorry.” Muttered Cal, as he stopped his pacing and slumped into a seat next to me.
I shifted, placing my elbows on my knees, head in my hands.
“If you get me in shit, Chris, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”  Said Josie, glaring at me.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Shit happens, Jojo.” I smiled.
She rolled her eyes. She was letting herself get riled up. “My name is Josie. Don’t be a dick. We’re in deep shit here.”
Once again, I couldn’t resist a grin.  “Josie, calm the hell down. We have done nothing wrong.”
“Then why are we here?” She retorted. “I know you, Chris.”
“Really, Jojo? Then why so worried?” I smirked.
“Stop. fucking. calling. me. that.” She said tersely.
Cal leapt up. “Both of you shut the fuck up! In case you’re forgetting, somebody DIED.”
I bit my lip. Callum was right. As fucking always.
Maybe that was why I was joking, though. Nobody knew about me and.. and her. Josie suspected, but Josie was a jealous bitch because she loved me and I loved teasing her.
But I had loved Laney. And Laney had died. And it was all I could do not to cry then and there. Because Laney had used me like I had used Josie and the irony was that it was my fault she died and I fucking LOVED her.
Shit.

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Shiny Black Shoes.

I am proud of this more because it’s the first thing I’ve managed to write and finish in this past month due to family problems killing any sense of creativity rather than because it’s any good. So be kind. 🙂

Walking down the hallway,
in shiny black shoes,
Skidding round the corner,
Got to keep moving,
But no,
She’s not running from you.

Her eyes point downwards,
her hands buried deep.
She slows to a halt,
by the boy, asleep,
the boy,
who’s like a brother to her.

You watch her as she sits,
on the plastic chair,
she shuffles up to him,
and wakes him lightly
“Hi Lou.”
Tears shine in her eyes.

“He screwed me over. Twice.”
you hear her speak.
“There’ll always be another, lou.”
And that’s your signal.
“Hi, Lou.”
And now it’s your turn.

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Graveyard

I wasn’t originally intending something quite like this… but I rather like it. 🙂

The room is full of old chairs. The dustcovers have rotted away, leaving nothing but dust. The room is like a chair graveyard. It’s empty, devoid of life, and seems almost in mourning for the stacks and stacks of green plastic chairs that came here to, for lack of a better word, die.

I stand in silence, in the centre of the room. It takes a moment for me to remember why I’m here, but I know I have to do something. I can’t just stay here.

As I begin to tug at chairs, manoeuvring them into a wall alongside my path, the whispers begin. First one, then two, then more and more as the sound rises to a cacophony of crackled hisses.

They all go quiet as I move the last chair to the sideline. I turn to survey my handiwork, realising only too late that I have inadvertently barricaded myself in this graveyard.

And graveyard it is, I think to myself as I turn once more to look at the coffin that called me here.

With each step I take, a tremor runs through me. I’m shaking, but I can’t back out now. As my fingers touch the edge of the lid, pain turns them rigid as the scream tears through my mind. I shut my eyes, determined to make the scream stay in my mind. A gasp trickles out, hanging in the musty smelling air as I reach forward to trace the letters on the coffin.

There is no going back now, I know, as I fight to keep control of my mind. My eyes flick open as I ease the lid upwards, trying to ignore the pain.

I glance down, gazing at the milky blue eyes that opened when mine did.

I can’t hold back the scream, this time, but it’s okay. It doesn’t last long before a cold, powerful hand stops it in my throat.

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Veil.

I’ve been feeling particularly inspired lately. This is the latest piece. Warning, contains fairly heavy language.

“Hey you.” He says, dropping his bag next to me.
I glance up at him from behind the thin veil of hair that is my shield.
“Sasha asked me to talk to you.” He says.
I scowl from behind the hair. “Fuck Sasha.” I say.
He shakes his head, glancing at me. “What’s happened to you? You’re different.”
“Lots of things.” I say, remembering how different I’d been, barely two weeks ago.
He stares at me. “Talk to me. I’m your boyfriend, remember?”
“Ex-boyfriend.” I say quietly, and just like that it’s done.
He frowns. “Sorry, I must have missed this. What the FUCK are you doing, Amelie?” He’s shouting now, loudly. The other early arrivals are glancing at us, me slumped in my chair at the back of the class, and him yelling at me.
“I knew you’d be like this.” I say, the first fully formed, fully thought out sentence that had come out my mouth.
He swears at me, practically frothing at the mouth. “What happened to cool, popular, cheerleader Amelie? It’s like you flicked a fucking switch. You changed overnight.”
I smile bitterly. If only he knew. I tell him so, of course. “If only you knew. You’d understand. Or maybe you wouldn’t. You haven’t exactly got the greatest IQ.”
I’m alienating, I know I am, and that’s exactly what I want. Underneath the new hair dye, the dark attire, is a version of me that just wants to be fucking left alone, okay? And it’s taking all of my energy for me not to scream that at him.
“So tell me then.” He says, as I knew he would. So fucking predictable. “Help me to understand.”
I sigh, and shut my eyes for a few seconds, nothing more. When I open them, Sasha has waltzed in, and is watching us. Shit.
“My dad died.” I say eventually, leaving a pause just long enough for it to be awkward. He’s the first person I’ve told, but he doesn’t deserve to know.
“Jesus. Shit. I’m sorry.” He says.
I frown, tiredly. “No, you’re not. You just don’t know what the hell else to say.”
He shrugs, uncertain. “But why does that require you fucking dump my ass?”
I look him in the eyes for the first time, and he pulls the hair back past my cheek, stroking my face with his hands as he does so.
“I just want to be left alone.” I say, weakening. “Please.” I say, beginning to beg as a tear trickles down my cheek.
He stands up. “See ya ’round, bitch.” He says, as he walks to join Sasha. She cocks her head at him, obviously preparing to ask for the details of our encounter.
Two weeks later, they hook up. I don’t give a shit, but everybody thinks I have a right to.
It was expected. She was always prettier than me.
Damn he’s so predictable.
Seven months later, I give birth to a baby boy. I name him after my father. Poor kid’s dad doesn’t give a shit.

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Leave me alone

Once again, written in class. Can’t remember which. It’s kinda sucky, but yeah. Deal.

“Leave me alone!” I hear myself scream, from the part of me that is currently utterly detached. They won’t, I know they won’t. This part of me has stopped caring, but the flighty, temperamental, hurting part of me just wants to be left alone. That much is clear.

I take to my feet and run- it’s the same routine played out day after day. I just can’t bring myself to give a shit. It’s funny how weird that numbness feels, I reflect, as my feet pound the concrete floor and the taunting yells draw nearer behind me.

I’ve hit the steps. I could go up them to some kind of safe zone, but the risk is too great. They’ll catch up, and I’ll be tossed down the stairs like some kind of ragdoll. Maybe then they’d stop bullying me.

I make a decision, smiling grimly to myself, as I turn around and face the bastards.

I just don’t care anymore.

“Do your worst.” I say.

And they really do.

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The quiet, quiet room.

I know that nobody reads this, but I’m sorry it’s been so long *anyway*. I have only one thing to show you today, because for a looooong time I will be working on my novel. The novel that I haven’t touched in like a month. ¬¬ But yeah. Anyway.

She swung her legs on the chair, as the creaking of tables, the shuffling of papers, and the scratching of pens echoed through the exam hall. She’d long since finished her essay and now she was waiting, as the minutes dragged by, for the bell. She tapped her pen on the table, the sound barely audible in the not-really-silence of the hall. She stared at the clock, it’s unwillingness to tick gently slowing down the seconds.

Finally, the invigilator spoke the words. “Ten minutes remaining.” he barked, and she allowed herself a small smile. She scanned through her essay. The hurried pen movements of her peers told her that while she enjoyed the ten minute mark, others were not so thrilled by it. She glanced one last time at the essay, then dropped it on her desk with a certain finality. She collected her belongings and waited for the trill of the bell to speak in that quiet, quiet room.

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