This didn't fit anywhere else; writers

[-mex-]

Anyone here into creative writing? I'm workin on a little sumthing right now.

[mrfinnigan]

Yes, I write fantasy and sci-fi if I feel like it. :P

[-mex-]

Do you have links to any of your stuff?

I'm working on a story as I said; I've written out 13 pages and I have to type them. If anyone wants a synopsis... ask away.

[-mex-]

Hey, this is my first serious work; I spent countless nights getting this chapter just right. I worked pretty hard on it, and

I hope you guys like it.

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Chapter One: Fresh Scars Among The Old

Chirstos lay on his mattress, throwing his pink spalding ball straight up, catching it, only to toss it again. He was calm, waiting for his clock to reach 7:30 before he readied himself for school. He did this every mourning before he left. It was a routine that he had established for no particular reason, but without it, he felt incomplete.
He got up to run gel through his brown hair, to get prepared physically. A sheet slid off him, exposing his naked form. He was not hairy chested, but his legs were. He shaved his genital region. A breeze was stirring, and it felt good.
He reached into one drawer of his dresser, grabbing his contact lens case out. In his drawer lay an ancient cell phone, and a sharp, dangerous looking hunting knife. He left both, and closed the drawer.
Silence. The house was dead quiet, like right before a storm. Sergio was not raging, surprisingly. Usually, Sergio was bitching about some thing or another at this time. Fortunately, he had no neighbors to worry about. The police didn’t come around his house, either.
Sergio was Christos’ father. He was approximately 5’8”, and very strong. His work required strength. He had fierce brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and a shaved head. He wore baggy army pants usually, and a sleeveless undershirt.
His mother, Joan, was blond haired, blue eyed and was at one point in her life, beautiful. Her face, now, was worse for the wear. She had deep bags under her eyes. Her hair was like straw, dry and in bad condition. Her eyes were beyond bloodshot. She barely ate anymore, her frame thin, her body weak.
Christos’ eyes swept the room. It was very different from that of many other teenage kids. In one corner lay his bare mattress, sheets strewn across it haphazardly. He had no closet; for he had one pair of jeans, and a few shirts. He kept them neatly folded and stacked. Because Sergio did not care about Christos, he did not ever buy clothes, except when absolutely necessary. His dresser, black and small, held various items that Christos might need; cologne, assorted weapons, CD’s, and tools. Empty packs of cigarettes were scattered in drawers. Christos had a negative outlook on life; cancer was a threat, but so many other things could kill you, so why worry about one? He was a smoker for two years, since 8th grade. When he started, he didn’t start to look cool, or because of peer pressure. He genuinely just wanted to smoke.
Other things lay around; a pair of cheap sneakers in the corner, along with a pair of heavy, black work boots. They were fine boots, steel tipped, firm rubber soles with good support. Christos had kicked many asses with these boots. They had thick, round laces. Christos was fond of the boots.
Christos did not have lights in his room. He had a few dozen candles placed around. Christos did not mind the candles; rather, he liked them. A lighter lay on the floor. Christos picked it up and lit a few of the candles on the dresser. A faint light emanated from them, the sun was not fully risen yet, but it provided a small amount of light through his window. The cool breeze played across his bare chest, a few strands of his hair stirring. He looked into his mirror and saw a man of sixteen years with above average muscle definition. His stomach was a rippling six pack. His chest was hard and smooth, arms strong. His face was smooth as well, all facial hair shaved off. His hair was brown, and average in length. His eyebrows were not too large, they were not thin, either. His ears were rounded, and one was pierced. His lips were pink, and thin. Christos was very attractive by most people’s standards. Despite this fact, he had no girlfriend. Even gay guys in his school had crushes on him, but Christos was unsure as to whether his sexuality permitted a relationship with the same gender. He had been undecided in what he liked and did not like. He had never truly been in a relationship with either a man or a
woman. Currently, he was not looking for someone. That could change, though.
A large, deep scar was visible from one shoulder to directly below his left nipple. It was the result of Sergio’s alcoholism. At one point, Sergio had a car. When Christos was 14, his father had been riding with him around town. He ultimately wrapped the car around a tree. No damage was done to Sergio, but the car was totaled, and a deep cut was the result of a metal stake scraping Christos’ chest. Any closer, and the stake would have pierced Christos’ rib cage, and would have killed him by going directly into his heart. Sergio did not have a car now. He did not care that Christos was hurt, but that his car was gone.
Christos looked closer into the mirror, into his eyes. They were wide eyes, black rimmed with white inside, black pupils. He was frequently teased as a child, dubbed a Marilyn Manson imposter. His eyes lacked pigment, he had the ocular traits of an albino: poor sight. Although it was poor, it was not horrible. He turned sideways in the mirror, studying his body. It was beautiful, and many teenagers his age would kill for a body like his. He knew he was beautiful, but he never admitted it.
He walked out of his room into the narrow hallway. The floor was wooden, and in the dark, it looked like the hall extended into infinity. In reality, it was not long, but the lack of any windows did not aid in the decreased light. On the top floor was his room, the bathroom, an empty room where his sister once stayed, and his parents room.
Christos opened the bathroom door; the bathroom was also stark. A bathtub was placed in a corner, the old fashioned tub was outlined in cracking gold paint. A window was boarded up loosely. Light poured through the gaps in the boards, but only enough to give the room a depressed feel. In this room were no candles, and it reeked of urine. Despite how much Christos would try to scrub the smell out, it would not disappear. A cracked sink was next to the tub, and a toilet was in the corner. Christos stopped and yawned, eyes closed, arms outstretched. A broom closet was on the wall opposite the sink; a padlock stopped either Christos or his mother from being nosy and entering it. Christos walked over to the sink and rinsed his hands. He cleared his throat and spit into the sink; sour of the whisky he had drank the night before remained in his mouth. He had stolen the alcohol from his father. Sergio would not notice. There were so many bottles left around, one would think Sergio was running a brewery out of his house. It was simply a wonder that Sergio’s liver was not ruined yet. ‘Give it time,’ Christos would think. ‘One day, he’ll die.’
He cleared his throat again, and spit the phlegm out. His stomach felt horrible. A pounding headache plagued him, so Christos dug through a stack of pharmaceutical containers until he found what his was looking for: a bottle of illegally obtained hydrocodone. Sergio had many good connections through work. Christos paused. The strong painkiller would make Christos too spacey, so he slipped it into his pocket and would break it in half. He could not come to school under the influence of hydrocodone.
He slowly put his contacts in. Everything took on a sharp edge when he had them in. Without them, he could not read or distinguish many things. Christos washed the saline solution off of his hands, and took the lens case with him. He crossed the hallway again to enter his room. The clock read 7:34. School started at 8:15, homeroom was ten minutes long.
He could faintly hear his mother crying somewhere in the house. Usually, it broke his heart when she would cry, but as of late, she would cry so much that he had become more accustomed to it. Sergio was abusive, and would hit his wife when he felt like it. Usually, Christos would step in and receive a majority of the blows. Christos would strike back, only when angered enough. This was not frequent. Christos became angered enough when Sergio was extremely drunk. Only then would Sergio unleash himself fully. Christos had his jaw broken. It was only fixed because his friend Noki had parents that loved Christos like a son. Their home was his safe place whenever he could not deal with drama. Christos spent many nights over at her house, and her parents would have a sad look every time he would show up. Usually, he had painful looking bruises on his face or arms. Noki only knew that Christos’ parents fought, but she didn’t know how bad it tended to get. One time, Sergio had hit Joan, and Christos had to pull him off her. Sergio was so angry that he threw Christos down the stairs. He hit his head four
times on the way down, and he lay unconscious at the base of the stairs for two days. Every time Sergio would pass Christos, he would kick him in the ribs. Christos woke only because of the fierce pain in his chest. Two ribs were broken. Sergio did not care. In the Motherland, his father would treat his offspring worse: molesting them, beating them close to death. Sergio had inherited these tendencies from his father, and when Sergio was fourteen, he murdered his father in front of his family, and left. His mother committed suicide after that, and the children were forced to find ways to make money: prostitution, selling narcotics, any way was the right way. The Motherland was a difficult place when Sergio was raised. He managed to make his way to America only through sheer luck.

[sylcmyk+]

really, really damn good job. I like the whole and complete exposition to the entire interface of your book (which I believe you should publish with material such as this).

Mind you, I don't read, but you if you can somehow publish this then I'll probably get back into reading again.

[-mex-]

If I get it printed I'll send you a copy : )

I'm really flattered, you made my jaw drop when I read that D:

Thanks a whole lot : >

[sylcmyk+]

no really you seriously better get that finished up and printed so i can start reading again. k thanks

[-mex-]

The link is in my sig if you wanna read it.

[factorx1112001]

I write poetry actually xD. I'm rather proud of my work too, despite a chunk of it being inspired by Bemani music...so their title is the song. Mmmm MINT. ANYWAYS, I've been into Haiku a lot lately, and randomly I write some freeverse.

Since everyone loves coffee:

"Black energy
you fill my soul with
your aroma.

Finest bean.

I can taste your earthy
Past.
Delicious.
Small sips as to savor,
for once you're gone
I beg to long for
that sweet smell
that tingled my nostrils
so.
Calming and Rejuvinating.
Coffee,
Blackest Coffee."

p.s. That piece is VERY interesting and sad, I enjoyed what you have put up so far, Mexicans.

[Arctures]

I have this great idea for a novel, but I'm just not inspired enough to write it.

[-mex-]

gimme the idea and hwen I'm done with what I'm doing I'll try to put it together

[Arctures]

Nah, I'd prefer to make it my own. I've had this planned out in my head for a few months now, so I feel that I would be best for the job.

[Enoch-Fox]

I write. I have written satirical stuff, sci-fi, and fantasy... it's on my deviantart (dr1010.deviantart.com). I also write like a whole bunch of lyrics, but they suck. :P

[taboo]

Well, it doesn't need much saying since I'm here, but I write as well. Recently though, I entered a poetry contest sponsored by The America Library of Poetry and apparently made it into the semi-finals of the contest. Also, it seems the group wants to publish the poem in a compliation book called Excellence, so I'm pretty excited about it all. Oh yes, here's the poem I submitted for the contest.

Kelsey and Roy

My little lover has my heart
My boyfriend, my prey, my Roy
He was a hard catch with his bounces and swings
But I will satisfy him and he will satisfy me

It was many days before I had you on that grassy hill
Days of bearing your swings of joy, sadness and anger
until with tears in your eyes and fingernails raking my face
you kissed me and let me have your prepubescent heart

We laid in each other’s arms while resting on the grass
You apologized for not taking medication while I was
You said your religion forbids such mind-altering pills
As we walked to your house, I wondered how crazy you were

Your mother wasn’t thrilled to meet me on arrival
She said I was bad for your already deep abe
I couldn’t care what abe meant as we entered your room
Because all my desires were about to be realized

Then you slit my throat with a knife
Because L. Ron kept you insane
Then you whispered in my ear
“You’re the best old man ever.”

[BBKChaos]

My apologies, since there aren't any Poetry or Lyrics section where you can write stuff I might as well write something and express my mind...its about our world today.


Rapture

Bullets impaled in cold blister's tounge,
Crimson water flows in the cup of the soil,
Searing pain anguish that befalls men...

...The fall of men.

As souls gratifies choice in crystal sight,
Mind wrecked in chaos glass,
Through the reflections of men,
We cannot observe the sequences of all the consequences...

...The North's Will.

Hollow grounds prepare for flight,
Exhumes corpses in the East as Gods set sails through the Ages,
The ground melted scalpel to have been dugged by mortal hands,
Mortality registers in the soil clapsed tomb stone...

...Mortality of all.

I have seen attacks that synthesized with 9/11,
Blood fingers' treasurez from humans gain access to weaponries,
As toy soldiers march at the Eastern world,
Death awakes that sees through the eyes of our pupil...

...Fret in death that which kills.

A dawn near yet so close,
Our minds cannot stop from the aroma of red water,
Gleam of death never satify men,
In the end...

...Our Self-Genocide.


----

Please, don't flame....XD

And I'm sure you guys will get what I'm talking about!