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 It was still raining.

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Dark S3cret
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PostSubject: It was still raining.   Sat Oct 24, 2009 5:22 pm

Unfinished short story -- partly because there wasn't really a substancial plot. It's really just characterization. Practicing descriptions, etc.
I'm probably going to continue it. Sometime.


It was still raining. And she watched.

She watched the rain drip down from the black tiles off her roof, easing their way through the tiny grooves unhindered, sliding down her window and assimilated by the gleeful raindrops bombarding them from the sky. They explode on contact and in the haze of chaos they form a conglomerate which trickles fast, speeding across the surface like it has a purpose, and upon encountering others, pauses, almost like a child, in curiosity and wonder, before continuing on its way like nothing had happened…

The sound of rain was always soothing, the pitter patter gathering into a hushed roar, calming and cleansing. She could watch it forever. It was mesmerizing. The way it suddenly came down in droves, disorganized and hectic and blown astray by the howling wind, their whispered tattoo accompanied by a jarring crack of lighting and rolling thunder…

The click of the lock sliding into place broke the peaceful reverie. She sighed. She did not want to leave the house; she did not want to meet the world today. There was something about the rain, pouring from the sky like the flood of tears that sometimes broke free of her resilient barricade, that made everything feel … sad. Something about the gray and gloomy sky somehow seemed to transfer itself onto her disposition. Its melancholy was catching…

She rolled over, staring at the glowing green numbers which did not blink blearily back at her. Time was passing and it did not slow. Sometimes, she thought if she tried hard enough, she could sense the second trickling away along with the rain, down the gutters, never to be retrieved. And she liked losing herself in that state, with one foot in the realm of Morpheus, and the other in the cold, stark reality. She could enjoy the silence. This lack of urgency. This break in purpose. But no, she wasn’t going to – she was well rested enough and life moves on, time too – both flowing relentless and impossible to contain. She closed her eyes momentarily, allowing herself one more moment of weakness, savoring the inky blackness, the bliss of blindness. When she opened them again the drowsy sleep was gone, vanished in the fire of intensity. Carpe Diem, seize the day – and she was prepared to do just so. There was not another second to be lost, because each one she missed, this one and the next and ever other that followed was a relinquished opportunity, an abandoned path…

In the halls of her school, she drifted through the jostling masses, gliding unperturbed, unfettered by the swirling masses, entities born and living without a meaningful purpose, without any ideas or enough conviction to make things happen and limited to a petty day to day existence, decisions made based solely on feeling, on impulse unrestrained by reasoned logic. Individual voices loud and together cacophonic, never made it past the music in her head and she was glad. She tried before to listen but all she could hear was noise – she could see their mouths moving, but she could never understand the words because it all blurred together, the sound waves converging and fading before they reached her...

In class, she sat with acquaintances, which is all anyone could ever be for her. She had a myriad number of them, for she was friendly enough when she wanted to be, when she thought she should be. But she did not like getting close to people – it was time-consuming, demanding and ultimately pointless. There weren’t too many types, none at least, that she couldn’t classify, and none were worth her time. She’d tried them all before. No one was put together like her, like a perfectly constructed puzzle, edge to edge, crisp and flawless…

They buzzed, jolted with eager anticipation, waiting for a number that would determine almost everything – and her eyes feel upon hers, and the red sat there saturating the paper, staining it like blood and she frowned slightly, hearing the others consoling their companions, and she knew she could never be like them. She was better. She was exceptional. She wanted… she wanted to be perfect. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask? She tells herself she can and the winces as the pathetic excuse rings out in her mind – ‘I can if I want to’ was what those less capable told themselves to reconcile failure with contentment…


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MinglerX

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PostSubject: Re: It was still raining.   Mon Oct 26, 2009 4:46 pm

I am kind of in love with your diction. Your imagery is also really fantastic. I LOVED the metaphor of the rain like a child in the first paragraph - it made my heart do that jumpy thing it does when I read something really, really good. Smile I also liked your description of the white noise of constant conversation, which is something I've been noticing lately... The tone of the story in general was dream-like, which worked because of the character. It was interesting. Smile
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MinglerX

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PostSubject: Re: It was still raining.   Mon Oct 26, 2009 4:48 pm

I forgot to finish my comment. Good for me.

I adored the last paragraph. The only thing was that the last sentence didn't really feel like an ending to me - but maybe that was your intention.

Moral of the story: Good job. ^.^
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Dark S3cret
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PostSubject: Re: It was still raining.   Mon Oct 26, 2009 10:00 pm

Hiii, Serena! Very Happy

I'm very very happy you read this ~ (there's is another one I haven't posted yet, which is the one I was talking about on the bus Razz)

Aww. You're adorable. I'm glad it's not a heart attack, that would not be good. Very Happy

Yeaah. There isn't really an ending yet? It's just kind of where I left off, at the moment, I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with it. There's probably going to be much more of this coming along eventually.

*hugs*
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