Following up the most recent CL Writing Project, here's a small-scale project to fill the time til the Science Fiction anthology is done and ready for the public!
This here is a Writing Prompt thread. We had one of those a while ago, and you are still free to participate over there!
Once again, these threads are OPEN without deadlines or big restrictions and barriers.
This one here will also be a lot more accessible than the last, where you were supposed to create a specific situation.
To quote from the last Prompt:
Writing Prompts will not focus on writing a full story, but rather on practicing specific aspects of writing, like characters, personalities, descriptions, settings, or just plain old "write something short about this or that" without the usual constraints outside of being creative.
As the thread title and header already imply, the task this time is to create a story based on or around a song.
Whether you turn the lyrics into a plot, interpret the mood or look for meanings between the lines to write your story is up to you.
Here's the rough set of rules:
The choice of song is up to you.
The song's Language does not matter - pick your japanese, french, elvish songs if you'd like
The song needs to be posted / linked alongside your story
When submitting your story, please comment on how it connects to the song, and how the song inspired you
Aim for around 500 to 1500 words
Keep your story Safe For Work if possible! If in doubt of what's acceptable, ask!
Please post your finished (or well-underway) writings on this thread.
If people want to comment on the writings, please do so in nested posts (by clicking the Timestamp on the post). Participation is open to everyone, but please don't just sign up without writing anything - this should not take nearly as much time or effort as writing a whole story!
Everybody is welcome to post criticism and feedback!
Since I knew about this idea for a bit of time now, I did play with some thought on the matter. Not sure if I will have time to think of something really good these days, but I may as well try after I finish with me project.
I'd love to do it but I'm so busy lately omg. ;; Between school, nearly graduating, preparing for college, and saving time for my boyfriend (whose also busy).
I'm seriously so, so sorry omg. Like I said, I'd do this if I had the time, but sadly I don't anymore. ;;
I am likely to participate, after the Still Alive chorus has been safely completed. No promises, though, because that period is when irl stuff is going to pick up pace.
You know, there I was yesterday, staying awake at night, killing stuff and all that...
And I suddenly had a perfect idea about what song to use and how to do it. Now, I am now swamped with real life buggery on workdays, and this weekend will be Wildstar beta for me, but I think I will write something somewhere in the middle of next week.
Sudden question. I said make it safe for work, and you pretty much know that I do in me stories. However, this is a funny thing because I suddenly realized that I want to... no, I will have to make this with some amount of swearing. And the funny thing is, son doesn't have any in it, but the whole setting that I envision just requires that. So, what's today's standing on some amounts of fucks and variations?
So. Something I just slapped in together in the last 30 minutes or so. Sorry about possible mistakes, I never checked the damn thing really.
I was walking down the street, going back to the goddamn hotel. I was a bit drunk, but not really wasted, so I didn’t get a taxi. It wasn’t a long walk to the hotel anyway. Maybe I should have taken a taxi anyway. It was already pretty late in the evening, the streetlights were lighting up and some stores were closing. Some hookers were already out, looking for drunks with some money to spend. Very much like me, actually.
One of the girls was more active than others, so she approached me. And a cute little thing she was.
“You know, I've never seen a man who looked so all alone,” – she said. - “Maybe you could use a little company?”
I didn’t really register what she said at first. She took it as a sign that I am hesitating, and decided to press further:
“I am not expensive, you know,” – she continued. - “You live here somewhere? Take me with you, baby, I promise I won’t be a bother afterwards.”
“Damn,” – I finally said, - “now why would a pretty little thing like you work like that, eh?” – she frowned, realizing I won’t be a customer, but I continued: - “Can’t you get any decent job instead of doing this to yourself?”
“No good jobs around here,” – she replied, - “and I can’t just do nothing. I have bills to pay, baby.”
“Aw, you should still try. Not a place for a sweet girl like yourself, this.”
As I passed her, she waved me goodbye with her middle finger.
I guess, the next dumb thing I did was walking into the damn alley. But you can’t blame me for that. I still felt cheery after talking to the girl, I wasn’t really thinking, I just went for the shortcut. So, when I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye, it was already too late. Next second the guy swooped up to me from behind and had a gun pressed to my head.
“Don’t you dare fucking screaming, motherfucker,” – the man said.
His voice was firm, experienced. Not like one of those punks who try to rob you to get drugs. No, I knew I was in good hands here.
“Give me all you got,” – he then said, - “money, valuables, whatever. I ain’t gonna kill you if you raise no fuss.”
“No problem, man!” – I replied quickly. “No fucking problem at all! Let me get my valet. I just got money there, I got no rings or nothing, just money, I think, two hundred bucks with some change, just take it all.”
He let me reach for my wallet and grabbed it from my hand. As I was listening to him counting the money, I asked:
“Man, I just have to ask, why are you doing this? I mean, I’m pretty sure there are better ways to get some dough without doing all this, eh? What kind of life is this?”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” – he pushed the gun into my head again, but then he suddenly answered: “What, you think I got no job? I do, motherfucker. And guess what, the pay there is shit, and I got kids to feed.” - I couldn’t really say anything to that. He finished counting the money and threw the empty wallet on the ground in front of me, - “Here, you can have that back for being such a good sport.”
And then the guy left as quick as he appeared. I never got to look at him even once.
By the time I got to the hotel, it was really dark and I was pretty sober already. What an evening that was. Good thing I wasn’t killed. When I got to my room, I just fell on the bed and stayed there for a bit, face down. Then I kinda went back to life and turned on the TV. And the scene there really made me jump. What they had on was a priest in handcuffs, getting dragged away by a police from some church. At first I thought it was some movie, but apparently it was local news, which happened earlier today. I tried listening for a bit.
“..pastor Patrick J. Simmons was stealing from the donations to the church for at least over ten years now…”
And god damn in, I just turned the TV off right there. I mean, what the hell can you say to something like that? And, even, can you really blame the guy? Sitting there in his church, doing nothing, no thrills in his life? Well, the poor sod has thrills now.
As for me, I decided to not stay another hour in this damn town. I started to pack, turning the radio on in the process. Hoping it would not be tuned to local news also.
"Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked,
Money don't grow on trees.
I got bills to pay,
I got mouths to feed,
There ain't nothing in this world for free.”
Oh yeah, that was one true song. I dragged the bag from under the bed and unzipped it. I thought about counting all the money for a second, but decided, that if anyone would have taken any of it – they would have taken all two and a half millions. I grabbed a few bills and stuffed them in my empty wallet. Travel expenses.
The car was on the lot, where I left it, and no one apparently tried to fuck with it too. Incredible luck. I threw the bag on the back seat. Not even another hour in this town. I knew the law was not on my trail, at least yet. But if I would have stayed here any longer, my problem would have been not the cops but the local crooks.
As I drove off the lot, I turned on the radio.
“No there ain't no rest for the wicked,
Until we close our eyes for good…"
Lucas was sitting in the corner of his bedroom, hugging his knees. He was at a complete loss, his eyes wide open, staring nowhere. His jacket was wet, sticking to his skin, but he was shaking more because of the shock than because of the cold. The sound of his heavy breath was muffled by the rain outside. The night was dark, but he was afraid to turn on the light.
Will he really come? The events were running through Lucas' mind again and again, making his head spin and piercing his chest with unbearable pain of not being able to fix anything. Why does it have to be like this? He was trying to make himself understand what was going on, but the images were just circling in his head without purpose. He could remember everything, he would never forget, yet the understanding was slipping away from him.
In complete panic Lucas covered his head with his hands and whimpered powerlessly. Was this all real? As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Roxy. Roxy. Roxy. After he managed to get out of the rehab, she became his everything. He didn't realize how much he needed her and took it for granted, but now he felt so empty that it was painful to breathe. And there was nothing he could do. The vision of her gently smiling face in his head turned red, her slim body unnaturally fell down and her gorgeous dark hair scattered across the floor. There was no way she could survive the hit.
Christopher. Lucas squeezed his head and roared in despair. If only he was quick enough to push her away from Christopher, they could run away. But he didn't. Instead he was standing paralyzed with fear, while his former friend was waving his knife around.
How did they happen to become friends anyway? They were complete opposites, Christopher had some criminal past and was involved in drug dealing, while Lucas was from a good family with opportunities in life. He just wanted to have some fun. But now everything was lost. Christopher went completely mad and tried to kill them. Dumbfounded, Lucas could do nothing but watch. And then he ran away and left Roxy lying on the floor.
Lucas tried to convince himself that there was no use in trying to do anything, because Roxy was already dead and running away was the only right decision. But it wasn't a decision. His legs moved by themselves, his mind seized by panic.
The feeling of emptiness struck him again and again as he pushed himself into the wall. He wanted to disappear.
Suddenly Lucas heard a faint sound of breaking glass. He jumped on his feet and glanced at the door. Christopher broke into the house. Lucas quickly opened the wardrobe door. He desperately wanted to hide, but then his eyes came across something lying inside of the wardrobe. He saw his old baseball bat, which he used while he was in the college. His face slowly changed as he imagined crushing Christopher's skull and smashing it again and again.
...
The rain was pounding heavily on the ground. It was dark, despite the house lights. Someone was slowly walking down the street without an umbrella, with his head lowered as if he didn't care where he was going.
Got out of class early so finished up the story! Hopefully it isn't to bad...
Basically I simply listened to the story, watched the video and tried to go into a bit more detail. I did end up mixing some of the lyrics with the song and replaced some of the words in a different part of the story but other than that I tried to keep it together on the time line with the song.
Slowly a car pulled up in front of a rather small brick house. There was a few toys here and there outside in the front yard but other than that it was silent even as the car doors opened and a woman stepped out, moving around to the back seat and leading the three small boys out and towards the house.
She called out into the silence of the house and a man walked out of the kitchen to move over to her side, a young girl peaking out around the corner who blinked at the boys. They were different, red eyes staring blankly at the couple in front of them. The woman gently took the girls hand and pushed her forward, the brown hair female staring at the boys in front of her while they stared back, bored.
“Ayano’s your new sister now… So try to get along with her for me please?”
The woman slowly left and the male followed, Ayano stared forward and the boys stared back before the one on the left turned away and headed over to the toys, the other two following never casting her a glance. Already they seemed to hate her but… This was a foster home so she wasn’t surprised they didn’t trust her. Each one had a past, the lady of the house warned her of it before they got there, abuse from their father, each one told they were nothing more than a monster, trash, so she didn’t push.
She tried to play with them. Showing them book, how to build huge houses from the blocks, drawing… But they didn’t seem to take to any of them and slowly she stared to give up. Then one day as Ayano stood there cleaning the bookshelf, she saw the boys staring at each other whispering, she couldn’t help the frown that crossed her lips when the youngest boy started to cry. Walking to their side she sat there in front of the boys, the two eldest looking at her confused and on guard, but she reached forward and gently pushed the boys hair from his face, nothing could prepare for what she heard.
“I’m a monster…”
Looking at the boy she smiled and stood up and walked over to the bookcase, holding out a small book with a hero in red on it, “That’s not true at all just look here.” Holding the book out to them the three boys looked at the picture and she smiled, “That red you hate so much a hero wears it proud…” The boys only took the boy and started to look through it in that moment they seemed to be more of a family, closer and she started to try and teach them games and puzzles but of coarse they simply saw it as boring. Then she placed a red muffler around her mouth, working on it for days, and thus started the small barraged and the four children in the house became happy, laughter filled the house and playing, the two adults happily watching from a distance.
Then spring came the next year and the house was silent once again. The three boys sat in front of a picture of the late woman of the house, her smiling face sitting there behind the children with the male beside her. Ayano stood there just behind them, the red muffler around her neck while she bowed her head, keeping the tears in by biting her bottom lip. The male of the house trying to do the same, trying to be strong but failing when night came and Ayano heard his sobbing from the den.
She worked hard, cleaning and cooking, taking care of the boys and everything the man of the house couldn’t, someone she had come to know as her father. The boys followed her, looked up to her and she still managed time to play and smile with them. Then one night she walked into the den, the man of the house laying there on his desk with a cup of rum in hand past out on a few files. With a sigh she slowly started to sort them then her blood ran cold, the boys were being taken away, split up, into different homes! Her hands gripped the files and she tried not to cry, they had just started to look up to her, they just started to trust her! She couldn’t lose them… She couldn’t lose the family she just earned!
Putting the files down she hid behind a smile the next day, sadness swimming in her eyes when she saw the boys run up to her hold their new jackets, something they made for their barraged. She watched them run and prance, play and laugh… They were happy and yet Ayano felt like she was falling into darkness, falling so far that not even the light from their smiles could get her. Gently her hands went up to the muffler and she gripped the red fabric before she smiled once again.
The sun was shining down on the house and Ayano stood at the door placing a jacket on and slipping on her shoes, the red muffler sitting silently around her neck while a small piece of paper sat in her hand only to be placed on the table by the door. It was still early and no one was awake so with a creak of the door she slowly walked out of the house, dark clouds forming overhead at her disappearing form that stood on the edge of life before slowly falling into darkness, rain drops slowly falling down onto her form that now laid there in silence.
It was morning, no one had heard Ayano cleaning or cooking, she possibly went to school early so they went about their day. It was only when a set of red eyes locked with the white paper on the table by the door that their world broke.
Silently everyone gathered around the coffin that sat in front of them days later, Ayanos body found just behind the school. The three boys stood there gripping each other hands crying, clinging to the jackets they created while the bright red muffler wrapped around her neck stood out in the picture that sat there slowly becoming wet from the rain, the large black cars ready to take the boys from the house…
“If they were my eyes, such red eyes, I wondered if I could be their one and only hero who could have saved their future. The people I love kept crying out and it was going wrong but I couldn’t tell anyone what I felt… I begged God to not destroys anymore and he simply broke us… Sending them away from us. They probably hate me now or just hurt but please tell them that this is a mission I must go alone. I know that I’m gone but wonder what the barraged is doing now… I hope that they’re smiling and getting along with each other. Please don’t tell them what happened, don’t tell them what I have done; I want them to remember our happy times when we were a family. After tomorrow breaks I hope they can find happiness again.
I can’t help but wonder have I become their big sister by now?
Every time I close my eyes, I just keep on hearing the same song, dreaming the same dream. How it becomes truer every time. How it keeps on frightening me just so I keep my eyes shut. Listening to it continuously in my current state, It just keeps on torturing me, and this seems like it has been going on for eternity. How I stopped counting, I stopped caring, but I never stopped fearing. How it feels like I've been a victim of silence for a very long time now, how I can't hear or speak with anyone, can't even be seen by anyone!
I just keep on walking and walking endlessly, trying to catch a light, but all of it is in vein. I couldn't touch the light, all I could do was look at it, try and feel it, but never will I be able to touch it. Within that light, a group full of people, just talking endlessly, but to no avail. They think they can hear, but they can't. They think they can talk, but they can't. They think they can escape this eternal wall of silence, but they can't!
And I am forced to look at them for eternity, no better than them, only I know the truth but completely helpless. My hands are tied, my existence is hollow, but every time, I keep trying more and more to warn them, to let them know the truth, thinking, maybe if I somehow can reach them, maybe, just maybe, we are able to escape. But it just doesn't happen. I fail every time, feeling broken more and more with every single time, feeling lonely, feeling helpless, hopeless, angry, I try to break my way inside them with all my might and rage, but I can never touch that light... Not even close to.
As I begin to break down and get on my knees, a man walks up to me, looking at me with eyes cold as snow, and a heart as warm as the sun. He looks bright, mighty, and wise. He leans toward me and begins to whisper to me, but every time I miss it. Every time, I wonder what he tries to tell me right before getting me on my feet, right before pushing me lightly so I can move again, so I can break free from this prison full of void and empty illusions. So I can, just wake up! I never know what he says, every time, and I never get to know because as soon as I try to ask him, he touches my forehead with his index and middle fingers, and by then I would wake up, afraid, anxious, worried, curious, and full of disappointment as I continue living trying to forget what I experience every night of my life ever since hearing that song.
There hasn't been a single night in my life, ever since I heard that song first, that I hadn't wished to never sleep, never to close my eyes, just so I don't have to go through it all again, as with each time, I become more and more fearful of the thought I may never be able to open my eyes again.
Now, to elaborate, this story was basically inspired by the lyrics, though I do took it upon me to change some stuff and narrate it my own way. I thought the song could be more dark and mysterious, and well, I am pretty happy with what I have written even if it may not be that great. Also, yeah, It's not really that different from the song's story, as it is pretty much influenced completely by the song, only a bit different and kind of more darker than the song's atmosphere. Hope you enjoy reading it.
The teacher announced, her flowing voice brimming with hidden joy. I shifted the metal chair back, and strode towards the front of the classroom to receive my essay. She offered me a light smile, strained slightly with the need to treat all students equally. I murmured a 'thank you' before returning to my seat. The stapled set of foolscap paper was empty of red marks, save for the circled one hundred at the top right hand corner. I ran the pads of my fingers over the black indentations my handwriting made in the white sheets. A glowing pride swelled up within my chest, crashing against the constraints of my rib cage and aching to be let out. I had studied desperately for this geography examination, and had been rewarded accordingly. Flushed pink rose to the surface of my cheeks, the smallest outward representation of the emotions building within.
The back of my head tingled with the gazes of my classmates. I could hear whispers spreading like wildfire amongst them. It ain't a surprise that she scored well, someone commented snidely. Another laughed sarcastically, as if we did not study just as much as her? As the commotion rose to higher heights, pangs of loneliness hit me increasingly hard. My classmates did not score as well as me, but they could find comfort in each other. I could not. While they gathered in their cosy little cliques, I was always left to my own devices. The envy that echoed knowingly in the back of my mind was unnervingly familiar.
The bell rang shrilly, sending a jolt through my body. We thanked the teacher together, and were dismissed to our next lesson. Some lingered to chat with friendly faces, while others made for a quick toilet break. I left the classroom and plodded down the corridor straight to my next lesson. Without a warning, I felt a hand fall heavily on to my shoulder, yanking me in to an obscure corridor. A surprised gasp escaped me. I vaguely recognised the gang of five who stood before me. Their expressions warped into displeased violence. Instinctively, I understood what was to happen. Numerous knuckles and sneaker-covered feet met with my body. They hit me with purpose, demanding the reason behind my accused arrogance.
One frazzled girl sneered, "You have no right to stand above us!"
"You obviously cheated, bitch," Another spat, "Admit it!"
A male grinded his foot on to my left cheek, digging in to the corner of my mouth and effectively silencing any pained sounds. Another tugged mercilessly at my knotted chestnut locks of hair. Desperation coursed through my veins, along with a sinister wrath. I had done nothing to directly hurt them. The blame for their poor results did not lie with me. Why did I have to suffer such cruelty? If anyone deserved to be hit, it would be themselves for not studying smarter and attaining better marks.
Eventually, they grew tired of my disspirited resignation and left in a huff. I groaned, wrapping one arm around my throbbing abdomen and using the other to jab gingerly at my swollen cheek. Moving painfully slow, I picked up my fallen books before making my way to biology lesson. I entered the classroom through the back door. The teacher rambled on monotonously, never once noticing my abrupt entrance. My classmates paid no mind to me, for they were all half-dazed from the boring lesson. Some were sleeping. Some were using their mobiles under their desk. I silently sat down at my seat next to the window, readying a black pen to take notes. My desire for better scores, higher marks would never allow me to miss out on a valuable lesson.
My head was still spinning from the earlier rough encounter. I could not concentrate at all. Thus, I opted to write down every word the teacher muttered out for further review later. Inky scribbles spilled out across the lined page, smeared with the occasional smudge. I forced my sore arm to move feverishly, possessed with a carnal sort of gluttony. No matter how mundane a lesson may be, it could still be of use for clarification in the future. Who was I to waste the small bits of education gifted to me?
I was already acing my geography, chemistry and advanced mathematics. All that I needed now was to pull up my ninety-odd grades of my other subjects to full marks as well. If I succeeded, then I would be satisfied. I would have secured any possible options for my future. My family would be downright pleased with me. Greed twinged in my heart, purring happily at the prospect.
The wall-mounted clock continued to tick endlessly, eventually drawing close to the lesson's end timing. The teacher assigned homework for the next lesson with a bleary yawn. The bell rang out once again with much finality. The day's lessons were all over. Students flooded out of every occupied classroom door. Some congregated into massive groups that remained to bemoan the pains of education. A select few popped up next to the teacher with complex questions. I cleared my desk of writing materials, wincing the whole time. I hoisted my backpack over my relatively unhurt shoulder, but did not stand up to go home. Of course, I would eventually need to, but going home meant more than I wanted. The moment I stepped through the doorway, I was obliged to greet my mother, who would be working frantically in her study, and my father, who would be engaged in a heated business conversation. I needed to whip up lunch for my two siblings, then help them with their homework. I was expected to play the respectful, helpful child. Even though all I wanted to do was to rest after the day's happenings. I could not avoid the feeling of sloth that surged over me, enveloping me in its lazy heat.
My eyelids dropped heavily down to shade my tired eyes. In the darkness of the moment, I was hit with the awareness that I no longer knew the meaning of 'carefree'. I was sure that once upon a time, I had been that child who pursued nothing but immediate happiness. The child that greeted each day with a grin, always expecting a new adventure to await. The child that would never work herself to the bone for the sake of anothers' expectations, to the point of getting lost in the myriad of suppressed feelings. I wanted to go back to that time, but nevertheless, I am now unable. I cannot be rescued.
I didn't manage to find a video with English subtitles, but there are English translyrics here. My interpretation of the song lyrics are pretty out there. I tried to portray that Estelle is lost in the fervor of studying, and feels haunted by the pressure of needing to score the best marks. The 'face' that she has forgotten is her past self.
My word count is 1103 words; a little long-winded.
“Your turn, Delph,” The half beaten up lanky boy with dark eyes said as he struggled to make his way out of the ring. There was blood sprinkling down his nose and he was drenched with sweat, be it from the leftover heat of the day or from the fight he had just dealt with, it didn’t matter. He lost, which meant Delphine had to either win the next fight or the boy still standing in the ring currently drinking a purple energy drink would be victorious in the evenings round of matches. It was a regular activity for the poorer, or wilder, kids of the Chicago suburbs. They made their own little Fight Club, to keep in shape and to keep themselves sharp. In the world they lived in, Darwinism spoke it’s truth. It was a survival of the fittest, and the fittest liked to play. Originally, their version of the club was just for training. So that walking out in the middle of the night didn’t end up in a mugging and that girls were assured the safety they deserved. However, in recent months, it had turned into a full on gladiator-esque club in a warehouse left by one of the founding members family.
Delphine wasn’t nervous for her fight. She was going to be facing a smaller boy, who was still a few inches taller than her, his name was Charlie and he was very good at slamming people down on the floor. She made her way in the ring and stood at the corner where the boy who had just been beat, Theo, was trying to make the nosebleed stop. “Be useful,” She said. “And hold my shirt. This’ll last four minutes.”
“Stop being all snarky,” Theo answered, snorting. “He’s got a mean uppercut and just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean he’ll hesitate giving you head trauma.”
Delphine rolled her eyes while picking her heavy hair, she was going to put it in a ponytail. It was standard procedure. You had to be shirtless, so no one could choke you with your clothes -- although sports bras were expected of girls -- and if you had long hair, it had to be up. “You’re just bitter because you got beat,” She picked a water bottle up from the musty matt. “And anyway, it’s not like I want him to go easy on me because I’m a girl. It should scare the shit out of him, actually.”
She sipped on the water bottle before setting it back down. The match was going to start in a minute and everyone in the warehouse, about over a hundred teenagers, were rumbling with anticipation. Every fight was important, and they all needed to be observed. She knew she had some bets placed on her winning, but thinking about it would just be a distraction. Before fights, Delphine usually found herself wondering how she got here. She knew, of course, but she always revisited the memories. It was one night when she was with Theo and he told her they’d be going to an underground show. She thought it was going to be a concert by a ratty band that’d never get signed. But when she was brought there, she was expected to start training with the newbies. Originally, she had thought it was crazy, but with crime becoming widespread, Theo thought his best friend should learn to defend herself. Six months later, she was a regular watcher, fighter, and coach to the newbies.
“I’ll pay for a beer if you win!”
Delphine snorted and then looked straight at Charlie who was in ready position. He was one of the few sickos who got off on making others bleed and Delphine fought him four times before. Three of the four times, she ended up passing out -- and she wasn’t a terrible fighter. The one time she did win, he had a dislocated shoulder and a broken finger. Her arms were in front of her, in starting position and in a second, she tuned out the whistling and the howling echoing throughout the large room. There was no rooms for distractions. Distractions were what got people knocked out in twenty seconds. A loud whistle echoed, indicating the fight had started, and in a second Delphine’s legs moved back an inch to give them space. She had to make the first move or she’d be screwed. She knew she was quick on her feet, so she pounced forward and found her right fist making it’s way towards his stomach. The impact threw Charlie off and it hurt Delphine’s knuckles like a bitch, but she had no intentions of letting him get off easily. She had a major grudge against him, especially since he was more of a bully than a friendly fighter. He made the mistake of putting his arms down, so her fist swept at his face and she hit his left cheek, along with part of his nose hard before taking a few steps back.
However, she knew she made a mistake, and that she hadn’t hit him hard enough because he had enough upper body weight and strength to ram into Delphine and pick her up off the ground. In an instant, her back slammed on the hard matt. The wind was knocked out of her, but she only had seconds to get off the ground before he took her, however, she didn’t move fast enough. He made his way behind her and held her in a choking position. She would have been out in the next ten seconds if she didn’t pull the dirtiest stunt she knew she was allowed to. She dug her teeth into his arm which forced him to let go.
“What the hell?” He exclaimed. Another mistake. Quickly enough, Delphine was on her feet and behind him. She kneed his back into the floor and heard a thump. He was trying to help himself up before she kicked him in the stomach. Never kick a man while he’s down is bullshit anyway, she thought.
Not a lot happened in the next thirty seconds, Charlie coughed up blood and he raised his hand to show he was finished with the fight. Cheering was heavy for Delphine, and someone was in the ring to help get Charlie up.
“You can redeem yourself next week, asshole,” She called to him at the other side of the ring.
He spit at the ground, in attempts to look like he was tough, “That was a cheap move you pulled, bitch.”
She rolled her eyes and snorted, “I have a name, and unless yours is douchebag, then I go by Delphine.”
It was only when the adrenaline died down ten minutes later and she was walking home with Theo and a few others who lived in their neighborhood while the sun was lazily rising that she felt the pain in her lower back. “One,” She started, after throwing the empty bottle in an empty field. “This beer is real cheap shit. Two, you’re welcome for taking care of Charlie --” Theo rolled his eyes. “Well it’s not like you were doing a better job. And three, my back’s killing me.”
Word count: 1201
Awesome, so I've had this song come up constantly on my iPod and it really reminded me of a teenager-ish Fight Club and Delphine here, my little seventeen year old OC is going in for another round in the ring. It's rough, and I only did one read through after writing, so any and all criticism and review would be appreciated! Also, I could have written a novel but this is just a short whatever. Enjoy it!
Let's see...
After this week's extra hassle, I'm back to trying to find a suitable song/scenario to write about. It ain't easy if you're picky, that's for sure.
Personally, I am trying to find something that plays into my perceived strengths, while still giving me a neat and fresh angle to work with.
