Emilycarson Quotes

art of hatred*
posted a quote
April 4, 2013 9:28pm UTC

DARKSIDE
likeyerh
NOTE: I had to redo the prologue because it was covered due to a swear word and I didn't even have vulgar language in it. Oh well. To those of you who read the original, I've changed it a bit. Thanks for taking time though. :]
~ prologue ~
Shadows dance on the walls of my bedroom. I dig myself further into the blankets, hugging my arms. Goosebumps sprawl across my skin as I shiver. You're scared of a shadow of a tree on the wall. Pathetic. I curl myself into a ball, trying to ignore the voice. "Show yourself." I finally manage to speak. I've been listening to this voice rant on my life. It's not a shadow of a tree. I know it's a shadow of him. Why don't you show yourself? Just turn on the light and you'll see me, but of course you're too scared to. from the tone of his voice, I realize he's rolling his eyes - if he has any. I bite my lower lip, teeth gently sinking in slowly. If you don't come out of your little shell, I will break it for you. he laughs. I close my eyes, rolling to the left side of my bed and stretching my hand out. I click my lamp's switch on after a few minutes of feeling. I can't open my eyes. I'm pulling the covers. he adds. I tug my blanket closer to me, but he yanks it from my reach and I'm bare. My tank is too loose to give me warmth and duck shorts aren't the best insulator. I finally open my eyes and I see a boy, about my age, staring at me. He wears a biker's jacket and skinny, worn-out jeans. Aren't you beautiful? he grins, bending down to bring my chin to his. I shift slightly but he inches closer. I jab my fist at his face and he falls back. "Aren't you a fighter? I like girls like that, Emily Carson." his raspy voice changes into a handsome, low one.
"Who are you?" I ask.
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Might be my FINAL ATTEMPT for a story because I'm less inspired but I really hope this one works. The original idea was a good one but hard to grip and keep the same format. So I kept it more brief and less complex. And so on, I hope you like this prologue. I spent like two hours trying to edit this and keep it simple. An hour on the original idea and an hour on this. Kay. Thanks.
TEASER: I hug his waist a bit more firmly, digging my head into his back.

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art of hatred*
posted a quote
April 3, 2013 10:10pm UTC

DARKSIDE
likeyerh
☠prologue☠
My palms are sweating in anxiety and I feel like I'm going to hurl. I'm the last one up on Team B and Clara Smith is ready to throw the red rubber ball to my face. I can feel the rough pain rub against my face even though she hasn't made her move yet. Her rookies step back and snicker, ready to laugh. I hold back my sob and nod, closing my eyes. I'm saved though, because the bell rings. Clara drops her ball as Mr. Green blows his whistle and she stares at me, daggers shining in her fiery almost-black eyes. My life = over.
Nobody else is in the change room but Clara and me. I wait in the shower, cold water running down my bare back. I'm nervous. I fiddle with my fingers as soap sprinkles down my legs, washing me down to a lemon and detergent smell. "Emily, get out from the shower. I know you're here. It's time for some punishment. You're so lucky that you were saved by the bell but this time it'll be worse." Clara threatens. I wrap my arms tighter around me, biting my lower lip in fear. Don't hurt her, a voice mumbles, echoes booming through the walls. I raise my head and I hear Clara's buff legs back to the door. I realize it because her back slams against the knob. "Stop pranking around, Emily. Come out from the shower, clothers or not. You're going to be beat." Clara's voice cracks though. I can hear her voice stuttering a bit. She's scared. This isn't some silly joke, Clara Michelle Francesca Smith. GET OUT OF THE CHANGE ROOM! the voice demands. It's a male's voice, it's rough and scratchy as if he hasn't spoken for months. I can tell he- its young, almost my age. Clara stumbles out of the change room and I turn the knob of the shower, peeking out.
I see a boy, merely visible, looking at me with a smirk. "Looking good, Emily Carson. Fresh." he winks. I scream.
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Yes, probably my FINAL ATTEMPT for a story. Other than that, I'll just stick to quotes and stuff. This one is mythological, unlike the usual 'reality with highschool and kidnapping and stuffs' story. This is something I'm going to try and I hope it really works. Thanks :]
-likeyerh

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