Writing / Free Writing

[drahkon]

Thanks to @MoogleViper's amazing thread I've made writing into a new hobby (which I still don't do as much as I like to).

 

Bought Gotham Writer's Workshop - Writing Fiction to get some advice when I finally have an idea for a short story/novel/screenplay/whatever.

 

Also searched the internetz for some exercises and found free writing. It's a very simple procedure: You set yourself a time limit (e.g. 10 minutes) and just write everything down that's in your head without regard to spelling, grammar, etc (i.e. you don't correct mistakes). You may choose a topic, but that's entirely optional.

 

Got myself a notebook which I take with me everytime to just do some free writing wherever I am. Haven't done much, yet, but it's been fun.

 

When I'm at home I use my computer to write and I modify the exercise a bit, as well: I think about sentences/phrasing/words/grammar/etc more but still try to keep a flow going.

 

Anyway, what I'm going for is this: Be creative. If there's anyone here who has fun writing stuff, go for it and post it here if you want. I will probably do so from time to time, mostly free writing or the modified version of it.

Let's talk about our works : peace:

 

 

(I think there's already a thread for sharing texts, but I figured it would be nice to start a new one - hope that's not a problem).

 

 

Here's something I've been kinda 'working on'. It's nothing with a goal in mind, it doesn't have a real story/plot behind it (yet). It's just something that originated during a free writing session but has been changed and - hopefully - improved.

There are currently two parts and I hope to add more. Well, now that I think about it, there is one goal: add more and more scenes, no matter where.

 

The bench was cold as he sat down but it did not matter to him at all. In the exact moment he touched the wooden construct he saw a constellation of beauty that would change everything. Time decelerated and she walked in slowmotion. Her face, her clothes reflected the sunlight into his eyes and this sight was the most gorgeous in the history of his life.

 

Blue eyes that are able to freeze the deadliest man mid-murder. A look which opens up doors to every soul. The childlike nature of her smile is paired with agony from past times and yet it is strangely colorful and happy.

Blond hair that you can feel with your eyesight catches the freezing wind.

A body so delicate you do not want to touch, but you want to touch so much.

 

In what universe could someone like her exist? Reality collapsed around and inside him. Time stopped for a split second, though that's quite the paradox in itself, and then it sped up again. The image of her fleeting away, memory fading into nothingness. But there she was. Now sitting next to him, whispering something that ultimately altered his existence. He listened closely as she touched his neck with her right hand, intesifying her grip while the left held the key to life. The air inside his mouth could not enter his body. She had him, he made a mistake. He tried to take a glance at the solution to the one, final question. Her whisper stopped. One sentence, four words and it was over. "I own you now!"

 

He bled out and was dead within a couple of minutes. As she walked away her right hand was now holding a rusty kitchen knife smeared with blood and her tears.

 

Reality collapsed around and inside him. He stood up, walked towards her. With a smile he said: "You must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

She blushed, "Thank you.".

 

The key found its target. A lock that wasn't a lock, yet it opened every door he had always wanted to go through.

 

Reality rebooted and he found himself in a room. Moonlight – or streetlight? Who the fuck cares anyway... - moved in a wave-particle-duality-fashion through the shatters hanging in front of the single window. Bookshelves he had never seen before, a black dresser, candles, his trowsers on the ground next to a red bra and then his mind became as clear as his vision. A distinct smell levitated through the air around him. Some kind of dark, rosy perfume mixed with that typical scent of sex. The freezing temperature was gone. He was alive and inside. A dream? No, it had felt too real. Panic crept up inside him, heating his body up and for a second he forgot to breathe. In that moment he heard what his lungs refused to do. Slowly his heard turned and there she was. That blond woman from the park. Naked, next to him and very much not a dream. The one second turned into another, and another, and another. Thoughts rampaged inside his brain. He needed to get out.

Thank God she was asleep. The man stood up, silently put on his clothes and took a step towards the door. Again, time stopped. His eyes fixated on one detail, a detail that modified his history, his sanity and his presence on earth for a second time today – or yesterday? or? dream?

 

Between the wall and a rusty, blood-smeared kitchen knife hung a photo of him holding the woman's head inside his hands. The man in the picture smiled and so did the man standing in front of it.