Monday, 4 February 2008
06:37:36 PM (GMT)
This is a story I wrote in '06, so it's fairly old. I haven't re-read it yet, so
there might be some stupid parts in it. Though, I read my plot outline, and it
sounded interesting, so I posted it up. :D Enjoy!
The Beginning: Alexander’s Journal
I had often been told I acted to cold and insensitive. My mother ranted on and
on about respect and how I was a selfish brat who didn't deserve anything. Though I
never listened to her, I was well aware of the way I acted and I didn't care.
I was something special, something god had created with special care. I should be
able to act the way I wanted to and not be told otherwise. I was a human who was
gifted with beauty and charm, and I was perfectly content with my life.
But my happiness had shrivelled into an insignificant speck, and I was pushed into
one horrific event after another.
Alexander!" my mother shrieked.
What?" I asked her in an impatient tone, not dropping my eyes off my current task of
stacking colourful blocks. I stopped when I noticed my mother had not said anything
back, she had not even come for me to yell some more.
I decided to investigate, pushing my black tendrils from my incandescent pastel blue
eyes and I carefully made my way down the long narrow hallway, towards the front
A toxic aroma shrouded the air and I struggled to breathe, but I kept going and the
closer I got to that door, the more light headed I became. Finally, on the brink of
unconsciousness, the pungent odour treating to knock me over I placed my hand on the
staircase to balance myself before I collapsed. I quickly pulled it away, as if my
hand had been scorched by a hot burner. There was a dark and slimy substance on the
wall, and as I turned my palm face up, I could see the glistening crimson mark my
hand. I could feel something build up inside of my lungs, ready to break the eerie
silence around me; a scream that could wake the dead.
Wailing in confusion and horror, I helplessly cried out for help, for sanctuary, and
as I dashed towards the door, so close to my goal, I tripped. Falling face first into
the sickening puddle of blood, I could feel the blood seep into my clothes, and as it
drenched my pale face in a disgusting crimson, my stomach twisted and churned.
That’s when I was whisked off of my feet, suddenly dandling in the air like a
helpless puppet. My puppeteer was a man whose face was hidden within the shadows, his
hand grab my scuff and I could tell, that this was someone not to be reckoned with.
Dangling there, unable to fight back, I could feel my stomach heaved relentlessly. I
tried looking at the man; I could feel my mind slipping away, all this confusion
wearing me down. I decided to get one last look at my beautiful reflection. All I
could make out, in that dark crimson pool, was a sopping wet young boy, who looked
frightened and ugly.
And as I let mind slowly work; trying to make sense of all this confusion, but I knew
there would be no avail. It was a lost cause, everything was too snarled and tangled,
and there would be no answer to these questions that swam in my head.
There should be no worry anyway, I would be dead soon enough.
Last edited: 4 February 2008