Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Mar 2, 2012 22:34:08 GMT -5
So, this was an assignment I had in the beginning of the year for Creative Writing, and well, I like it. (: It's Greyson related, obviously. It's called The Summer Train, haha.
I supposed I should explain the numbers--the assignment was to write a story out of chronological order, the numbers are there to help put it together in the reader's mind. I hope you like it as much as I do, and tell me if it made sense and such! Thank you!
~SomethingAboutTheStars
1. He always had bothered me. It was a competition between us, unspoken, never defined, but we both knew it was there. I remembered how he always came out on top and I never acted like I cared, and I knew I failed at that, but he must’ve been pretty oblivious. But later he became aware of how I felt. He knew he was better. And he bragged. Laughed in my face. We stopped talking, stopped sharing jokes. We weren’t friends.
6. My hands wrap around the mug of hot chocolate, and I gulp it down, even though it’s still scalding. It’s made with water. I’ve certainly have had better hot chocolate. The cafe is near its closing hour, but I hang around here so much that they don’t kick me out until the last minute. The hot chocolate wasn’t bought here. I buy it from a man down the street who sells it cheap. The café is too expensive, but if I sit here with a hot drink it looks like I’m wealth enough to afford it here.
2. I met him later, a long time after our dispute in grade school. He didn’t even recognize me. I approached him, spoke a few soft words, and we sat down at the table. He put his left elbow on the table, his left hand cupping his chin. I saw the silvery band wrapped around his ring finger. He offered to buy me coffee but I refused.
7. Cold came early this year. I shiver, trying to rid my body of the ice creeping through my veins. My breath makes foggy clouds. I twist the silver ring around my thumb; it’s too big to fit on any other finger.
3. The alley was clichéd, but I didn’t know where else I could do the deed. I knew it was cliché, and the face bothered me. But the setting fits. It’s dark and dirty. Nobody knows. Everyone dies in an alley.
8. Screens blink, freezing in my mind. There was a man murdered last night. I realize that the world’s not cold. It’s just me. I’m the cold one, shrouded in darkness. And I can’t help but think that he would be the one to always smile, even when the winter frost kills the sweet flowers.
4. When I woke on May 27, I was shaking. My teeth chattered. Slowly, I rolled off the bed and grabbed my jacket. A train had pulled into town. I put my hand in my pocket, fingers chilled. And then I pulled out a thick piece of paper. Written in wispy letters, were the words The Summer Train. I was handed an envelope, small and decorated with dark red designs. I barely had time to study it, because then I was ushered on board the train, the ticket snatched from my hand, stolen by a breath of the wind.
9. I slip the peppermint into my mouth, trying not to breath too hard as the mint clears my nose. The holiday lights are up and I walk home to hang mine off the dusty apartment deck’s breaking railings.
5. There was a letter in the envelope, no surprise. I unfolded the crisp, neat paper, and was confused to see that there were no words on the page. But then I unfolded it all the way and I saw his name, scrawled in dark crimson ink. And I knew I was blamed. Everyone knew it. Everyone’s eyes were burning into my back, knowing I killed him. I shoved the paper into my pocket, trying to fight tears from pouring out of my eyes. Whether they’re from fear, guilt, pain, sadness, I didn’t know. And I really didn’t care.
10. I curse, shaking my hand as a bead of blood forms from where I pricked it when I dropped the ornament shard. My small, pathetic Christmas tree is too weak to hold up the heavy glass, and it shatters across the floor.
11. They say all’s forgiven on the summer train.
He always did come out on top.
I supposed I should explain the numbers--the assignment was to write a story out of chronological order, the numbers are there to help put it together in the reader's mind. I hope you like it as much as I do, and tell me if it made sense and such! Thank you!
~SomethingAboutTheStars
1. He always had bothered me. It was a competition between us, unspoken, never defined, but we both knew it was there. I remembered how he always came out on top and I never acted like I cared, and I knew I failed at that, but he must’ve been pretty oblivious. But later he became aware of how I felt. He knew he was better. And he bragged. Laughed in my face. We stopped talking, stopped sharing jokes. We weren’t friends.
6. My hands wrap around the mug of hot chocolate, and I gulp it down, even though it’s still scalding. It’s made with water. I’ve certainly have had better hot chocolate. The cafe is near its closing hour, but I hang around here so much that they don’t kick me out until the last minute. The hot chocolate wasn’t bought here. I buy it from a man down the street who sells it cheap. The café is too expensive, but if I sit here with a hot drink it looks like I’m wealth enough to afford it here.
2. I met him later, a long time after our dispute in grade school. He didn’t even recognize me. I approached him, spoke a few soft words, and we sat down at the table. He put his left elbow on the table, his left hand cupping his chin. I saw the silvery band wrapped around his ring finger. He offered to buy me coffee but I refused.
7. Cold came early this year. I shiver, trying to rid my body of the ice creeping through my veins. My breath makes foggy clouds. I twist the silver ring around my thumb; it’s too big to fit on any other finger.
3. The alley was clichéd, but I didn’t know where else I could do the deed. I knew it was cliché, and the face bothered me. But the setting fits. It’s dark and dirty. Nobody knows. Everyone dies in an alley.
8. Screens blink, freezing in my mind. There was a man murdered last night. I realize that the world’s not cold. It’s just me. I’m the cold one, shrouded in darkness. And I can’t help but think that he would be the one to always smile, even when the winter frost kills the sweet flowers.
4. When I woke on May 27, I was shaking. My teeth chattered. Slowly, I rolled off the bed and grabbed my jacket. A train had pulled into town. I put my hand in my pocket, fingers chilled. And then I pulled out a thick piece of paper. Written in wispy letters, were the words The Summer Train. I was handed an envelope, small and decorated with dark red designs. I barely had time to study it, because then I was ushered on board the train, the ticket snatched from my hand, stolen by a breath of the wind.
9. I slip the peppermint into my mouth, trying not to breath too hard as the mint clears my nose. The holiday lights are up and I walk home to hang mine off the dusty apartment deck’s breaking railings.
5. There was a letter in the envelope, no surprise. I unfolded the crisp, neat paper, and was confused to see that there were no words on the page. But then I unfolded it all the way and I saw his name, scrawled in dark crimson ink. And I knew I was blamed. Everyone knew it. Everyone’s eyes were burning into my back, knowing I killed him. I shoved the paper into my pocket, trying to fight tears from pouring out of my eyes. Whether they’re from fear, guilt, pain, sadness, I didn’t know. And I really didn’t care.
10. I curse, shaking my hand as a bead of blood forms from where I pricked it when I dropped the ornament shard. My small, pathetic Christmas tree is too weak to hold up the heavy glass, and it shatters across the floor.
11. They say all’s forgiven on the summer train.
He always did come out on top.