[Other] 'Cakes Poetry and Short Story Corner

pen1300 12-30-2005 07:01 PM
I like this. It has a lovely depth to it, a truth that I've been facing.

Very pretty. Couldn't it still be a poem? I think you could possibly break it up. You could possibly go line by line, or "break" the line where you want emphasis? I don't know. When it comes to poems, it's seriously what you think, but that's my thought.

I like it nonetheless. Cool

Later,
Pen1300
angelcakes 01-02-2006 07:12 PM
quote:
Couldn't it still be a poem? I think you could possibly break it up. You could possibly go line by line, or "break" the line where you want emphasis? I don't know. When it comes to poems, it's seriously what you think, but that's my thought.


You're very right, it could be split that way. Personally...I felt a bit confined when I thought about writing a poem. Without that need for somewhat of a pattern, I was able to write a purely emotional piece. That's partly why I kept it in the format it it ^_^" Thanks for all the great commments everyone!

Well...I wrote this story a long time ago. I've been debating whether or not to post it or not. I decided to...so I hope you like it.

*~~*

“One. Two. Three. Four.”

Black silken hair fell across her face. The room around her was dark and empty, there were no windows. The only light came from a crack in the door.

“Five. Six. Seven. Eight.” Her long black nails drew lines into her skin. Blood stained her white sun dress, but the girl didn’t seem to care. She stopped a minute to stare at the wounded appendage. Smiling a wicked smile she brought the arm to her face and flicked her tongue out to touch it. The blood from the other cuts smeared across her white ghastly face.

She lapped up the red liquid greedily, as if it were her first sip of water after several days without it. She was so engrossed in her task, that she didn’t here the door crack open a little bit more.

“Maria, I’ve brought your medicine-,” the voice stopped abruptly. A man in his early twenties stood in horror at the site of the girl. “MARIA!” He tore through the door and pulled her arm from her face.

“Let me go Marco. Let me go,” Maria sobbed.

“NO! I will not let you do this. I refuse to stand by…stand by and watch you destroy yourself!” Blood dripped to the floor, pooling in a puddle between them. Marco ripped his sleeve and gentle wiped the blood from her face. He ripped another strip from his shirt and began to carefully tie it around her injured arm.

“Marco please…”

Marco looked into her eyes, “No. Maria, please stop this. Please love, I beg of you.”

She lowered her head in shame and began to sob violently. After he finish wrapping her arm, he pulled her into a loose embrace, “Shhhh, don’t cry love. Please. I can’t stand your tears.”

“Marco,” came the hoarse whisper. Maria buried her face into his shirt and inhaled deeply. He smelled like the outside and the morning, the world and time she could no longer return to.

He smiled into her hair, “Maria…if you needed to feed...” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a Swiss army knife, “You should have said something.” Pushing her forward a bit he beckoned the knife to his skin.

“NO! Marco, don’t do this!”

“No love. If you need blood, you can take mine.” His eyes glowed warmly as he drew the blade across his arm, producing a thin line of blood. He went over the scratch again, wincing slightly as the dagger pierced his skin farther. “Go ahead love, take all you want.”

The scent of his blood came to her nose and Maria’s eyes went blank. Tears leaked from her now dead eyes. Her finger reached for him, and she brought it to her face. Maria nuzzled his arm, smudging her face with blood once again. She kissed the cut tenderly and licked her lips.

“Take it all love. Take it all if you have to,” he murmured weakly. The loss of blood way beginning to get to him and Marco began to sway. Maria continued to gulp down the crimson treasure. His vision began to blur and he shakily lowered his other arm to the ground to steady himself.

Slowly his eyes drifted shut, leaving only the image of his possessed love burning in his fading memory.