here's me, writing things in my new moleskin. tell me if i should just give up my writing dreams, or if it doesn't suck too badly, please and thank you :D
His hair is fluffy. His hair is fluffy and his eyes are bright and his jaw is at a sharp angle and his nose is just a little too big for his face.
He is funny, and nice, and charming. He makes her laugh, and after they part ways her limbs are shaking a little, and she has butterflies.
She tests out the word on her tongue, the big word, one that means monumental things, one that changes lives. It feels wrong. It doesn't fit, but she thinks that maybe someday it could.
With a small smile, she settles on a different word. It's not as strong, but it's meaningful, and this time when she says it, she says it over and over again. It works, for now, and feels accurate. As a word with many different meanings, it gets distorted often enough, but she knows what she means by it, so it doesn't matter. It's true.
It's wrong, he knows it, but he doesn't care, because when he looks at the boy sitting in front of him, face red and blue and purple and black, he feels anger that washes out everything else.
He feels his hands clench into tight fists, knuckles white, and he bites his lip to keep from screaming, This person, the person who did this to his friend, his brother - they need to die.
The boy looks up at him, eyes full of sadness.
"Don't do anything," the boy says
"I won't," he says, but they both know he doesn't mean it.
"No," the boys says, and coughs a little before continuing. "I'm serious."
"I can't promise you anything."
"I need you to."
"But...look at you. You can barely even move," a noise of protest, "I want to kill that bastard."
"Just don't do it. Please."
He sighed heavily. His head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was sprint out of the alley after the attackers. He couldn't though, now that he had promised not to. Building a wall between his physical movements and his actual thoughts, he picked up the boy's crushed and bruised body and carried him away.
Well, that's that. Sorry if they were terrible. I liked them okay. This was based on something Ernest Hemingway's quote about writing a story for each thing you know, and I'm planning on doing that. It should be easy, cause I don't know very many things.
Anyway, that's it :D