These (mostly) fictitious pieces of writing are from three years and older. I apologize if they suck ._. I haven't edited much.
I Have Sinned by LuvSyc, literature
Literature
I Have Sinned
Every now and again, I had to admit, Queenie would share with us, some ridiculous, fucked up, bogus idea about how we needed to spend more quality time together. Like a family should be. But this-bloody hell- this took the cake. And not just a piece. Oh no, this time in particular, that pretty little wife of mine managed to steal this cake; the whole cake, and run with it.
It's a Sunday morning. And instead of being passed out, still sloshed after drinking massive amounts of God knows what; on the living room floor, I was sitting in the fourth row, off to the right side, in a bloody pew, listening to some old bastard talk about God.
God. I
Chapter 01: Blow those words out the back of your head
[Tuesday, May 20th; 03:45pm]
This was no surprise to Cyrus, as he stood, light headed and faint, inheriting that oh so familiar churning inside his stomach; just waiting on the vomit; only mere inches from who he thought to be someone he 'loved'. He watched her; he watched how Noel slurred her bullshit words with pathetic hesitance; how she kept looking away; pivoting back and forth as she forced and made up excuses from her trembled, nervous lips. 'It wasn't working.' She kept hinting, but Cyrus refused to pick up the hint. He knew it hadn't been. He knew from the moment
The address was right, but the eerie feeling of sinking that ceased to rid it's condescending churn within Christina's chest and stomach-...not so much. Was she an idiot? Or was it the dangerous curiosity of inappropriate intrigue? Nonsense. She shook her head wearily as her attention had soon been grasped by the small griddy apartment that stood three stories. She smirked. Head shake count; two. Gallow had told her 'it wasn't much' after all. Early that day, he had almost begged her to drop by.
"I mean...if you want."
His voice, for once didn't sound so much like a scheming dirt-bag.
"Just drop by, just for ....- Five minutes! Five? S'al
Normally, in the cases of most men, the sight, or thought of a half naked woman, begging and pleading on her knees would more than likely be a turn on. A real 'up-getter'. However, I don't find this anything of the sort. It almost makes me feel sick. And not the kind of sick I'm usually used to. When I don't take the medication I'm supposed to. It almost hurts me, to be completely honest; to see her like this. I just can't think back far enough; I can't piece together in my mind; just how it got this bad.
"Just...-Come on.." She somehow manages to pull my zipper to an open. My hands fight to keep my belt from being the next thing.
She's fu
When I was younger, there was a place that I often found myself lost in. Almost every night. This personal place was located within the very depths of my dreams.
In a garden surrounded by thick, burning spruce and pine; the ember of hot flames just barely catching the edge of my sleeves.
I would walk many paces forward, before, once again, just like every other night dreamt beforehand, and come face to face with the very same stalky silhouette who stood just beyond the smoggy curtain of smoke and flames. I can barely see...
It was always the same. A man with an axe. A weapon that almost looked too heavy for him to swing or lift properly fo
Christian stared at his cigarette, as it rested in the groove of a ruby red ashtray. Ashes dropped from the tip as it burned slowly. He sighed to himself, before taking a sip of coffee.
He glared at Curtis as he entered the kitchen.
"I'm sorry..I don't do well drunk.."
"Curtis, why did you 'ave to tell her. Why?!"
"Why didn't YOU tell her Chris??"
"Don't you fucking try to turn this around on me!" Curtis yelped.
"Chris.. Look, I'm sorry I told your personal secrets but you should of told her. Don't leave it up to drunk slip ups from me."
He quickly turned on his heals, heading toward the bathroom.
Christian sighed.. before grabbing h
There was no such thing as a good sleep. Not anymore at least. No such thing as a 'better day'. No laughter or smiling. There was nothing. I was nothing. Music was the worst culprit when it came to telling you that everything would be okay. All it takes is time. Time will tell. Time heals everything. Well time was bullshit. Complete, and utter fucking bullshit. Music doesn't bring back the one you love. Music doesn't change the fucked up past. Music...It doesn't bring back the dead. Music won't bring him back to me.
Somewhere between desperate hope and over all insanity, I still see him, I can still breath him, touch and taste him, fuck
There were many mixed feelings that gripped hold of Alice as her mother unpleasantly forced her on her heals into the recital room.
"Come on now, Alice." Rang her mother's shrill, irritated voice, one head taller than she as she looked down at her with narrowed eyes. Alice meekly looked away, her expression proving nervous as she couldn't help but feel the most discomfort with her attire. Mother had obviously tied her shoe ribbons far too tight, and her hair nearly pulling out of her scalp, due to her massive amount of thick hair having been pulled into a strict bun.
"You look beautiful dear. Don'
Aiden moved gracefully, long legs, arms whirling about, lost in her own thought. She loved to dance. After hours, on her own. Only then could she unleash her true artistic passion for it. It was all fine and dandy, coaching and teaching the other girls, but as an instructor everything was, well,so structured. Structure was nice, and well appreciated by Aiden, but not when it came to dance. When it came to dance, Aiden was as free as the wildest bird. A phoenix preferably. No rules to hold her back, and over the top with still elegance. Once finished what seemed to be the longest pirouette in history, she stared into the mirror intently, emera
Frantically, Alice rushed about, too and frow as she tried her best to collect her attire for class. She struggled with the pair ballet slippers that tumbled, one after the other, tripping over the loosely hung ribbons .
Her mother, a tall woman with a bit of grief to her sunken-in expression, loomed over her with a disappointed huff.
"Alice!" She exclaimed. "It's quarter to, you are going to be late!"
Alice frowned, bending over to gather her footwear, bowing her head almost shamefully.
"I know, mother..." Her bottom lip poked out slightly.
"I'm sorry..."
Alice hopped up, grabbing her coat, bag, and slipped into a pair of comfortab