That inexplicable, utterly chilling sense
That you are being watched.
~ :: ~
Happy Hallowe'en, everyone! I wrote this poem a week or two ago for my Creative Writing class (with no direct inspiration from HP Lovecraft, though he is a great writer -- credit goes to Tolkien for the title), and felt it was fitting for Hallowe'en -- one of my favorite holidays simply because I love reading Hallowe'en-esque stories such as A Monster Calls, by Patrick Ness, anything by Edgar Allen Poe (seriously, that guy is a genius. A mad genius, but a genius nonetheless), etc.
So tomorrow I plan on reading some of those aforementioned scary stories and using the rest of my free time to finish planning for my NaNoWriMo novel (as I hope to finally participate this year).
Comments on the poem are very much appreciated, and don't forget to wish Harry Dresden happy birthday!
Villanelle written for my Creative Writing class.
~ :: ~
The (in)Sane Man
They say you were always sane,
But in truth your heart is black;
Every attempt to fix you was done in vain.
They say there is something wrong with your brain,
Perhaps it is from your time in Iraq,
But they still insist you are sane.
Laymen, they do not understand the pain,
The horrible pain you endured through every attack.
They try to help you, to heal you—but it is all done in vain.
They lie to you, trying to wane
Any possibility of you getting your true self back.
They keep lying, saying you are sane.
They won’t give you freedom, force you to wear a chain,
Won’t give you anything to get back on track.
They think it will help, but they are just vain.
Everything they do is inhumane,
Every word you say is answered with a vicious whack.
They keep telling you you’re sane.
But you do not believe them; their efforts all done in vain.
~ :: ~
Okay, so, I'm not particularly pleased with this (hence just posting it here and not in COT), but I figured I'd post it anyway. It's taken from an idea I had a while ago for a short story, and I really think I should've just left it for a short story, but my poem was due in a couple hours and this was the first semi-workable idea that came to mind, so I went with it. I still hope to write the short story some day, as I like the idea (which wasn't even exactly correctly portrayed here), but for now this is it. I'm really not a fan of having to write a fixed form poem (i.e., having to comply with rhyming, structure, etc.), which is the main reason I didn't like writing this poem as much as the others I wrote, but I still did enjoy it -- it was something I hadn't done before, and I had to challenge myself.
Comments/etc. are welcome.
And check out the new Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest! If you enjoyed the flash fiction marathon, that's what this is, just not quite so rapid-fire. Stories are due by October 8th, 11:59 PM EST. Also check out the Ambage if you like writing -- we have made several changes and added new features.
And because I didn't write anything specifically for my anniversary, I'll just shamelessly plug my new poem again. =P COT literature always gets buried so quickly...Anyway, here's to many more half-decades on BZPower!
They stare at you
Through the wooden edges of the frame.
A snowy plane lines his cheeks, bushy and misshapen
Like a wild plant, growing this way and that,
Thinning here and there like his life.
Soon it will all be gone.
So will he...
Read the full poem here. Comments are greatly appreciated in the topic. =]
But yeah, I had fun with this one. I'm not much of a poem writer (though I want to be), and that's one of the reasons I took this Creative Writing class. It's "introduction to poetry and fiction writing" so I thought it would be a good way for me to start. And I have to say, I was really pleased with how it turned out. Obviously not perfect, but this is the first real poem I've written. I've written a few shorter, sucky ones, but otherwise this is about it. It's definitely my favorite class, and I look forward to writing more poems, now.
I typed away furiously at the black keyboard before me. I glanced at the clock on my computer screen. One-hundred words to go, nine minutes left to enter. I focused on the task at hand, pushing all other thoughts aside and only caring about the story in front of me. I continued to type, my stream of consciousness flowing straight from my mind to the keys and subsequently onto the computer.
..........There, I said to myself, finished. I looked at the clock again. Perfect. Three minutes left. I quickly switched to my internet browser and clicked on the Fast Reply box at the bottom of the screen. I quickly typed out my Member Name, the Theme, Word Count, and then copied and pasted my story from the Microsoft Word document and into the white box. No time for any formatting – not that it was allowed, anyway – so I gave it a quick once-over, spotted a single grammar mistake, fixed it, and then clicked the “Post” button.
..........The page loaded and there it was: my story entered into the contest with a minute left. I smiled to myself, proud that I accomplished my goal and entered in time, even if just barely.
..........I scrolled up the page, glancing at the other entries. Forty entries all together.
..........“Quite a good turnout, wasn’t it?” Velox asked as he posted the new theme.
..........“Indeed. And just one down; still eleven more to go.”
..........“Time to start on ‘Treasure’,” he said, the second theme posted.
..........There it was. The next theme. Treasure. Already the wheels in my head began turning, thinking of a myriad of possibilities I could use for my story. I sat down and began writing, excited to write again.
~ :: ~
...Five Days Later
Amor Omnia Vincit. I wracked my brain trying to think of a story idea for this theme. But nothing came. Only six themes into the contest and my inspiration was already dying. My writing seemed to get worse and worse with each story.
..........Not matter what I did, nothing came. Come on, I shouted inwardly. You can do this, you can do this, just focus. I sat there for a few minutes, head resting in my hands, probing my brain for answers, ideas. Something.
..........And then it hit me. The inspiration inside me flourished once again; an idea had popped into my brain. I opened up a blank Word document quickly, and began to write, my fingers flowing across the keyboard. It was exhilarating, enlivening.
..........But that feeling didn’t last long.
~ :: ~
...Six Days Later
There. Last one, I think to myself after I had finished writing my entry for the twelfth theme. I drop my hands, exhausted. Relieved that the twelve days are over. My fingers are sore, my mind tired. But I know it’s over. I completed them all, entered every single theme. And now finally I can relax. A sense of pride filled me. I did it. I leaned back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk, resting my head in my hands.
..........“Why are you laying back?” Velox asked. “These were just the beginning. The warm-ups. Simply a preparation for the real contest. So get back to your computer and start typing. The BZPower Library Summer Olympics 2012 are about to begin.”
..........And that invigorated feeling hit me again as my passion for writing consumed me. I was ready for the challenge. Ready to write.
~ :: ~
From here. Yes, not the best writing, I realize that (most-likely due to getting my wisdom teeth taken out and not being in the mood to write), but it served it's purpose, I think. The Library Summer Olympics have now officially been announced.
At the sound of his cries I was instantly brought awake. I tried to get out of bed quietly, but it was too late; she was already awake.
“I’ll take care of him,” my wife said next to me from under her covers, beginning to rise.
“No, no, I’ve got him. Go back to sleep,” I insisted. She relented, knowing better than to say anything else. Most couples fight about who has to get up to take care of the baby; we “fight” about who gets to get up and take care of the baby.
Even the intense wailing put a smile to my face. Most are annoyed at being awoken in the middle of their night by their newborns, but I cherished the moments as I knew they wouldn’t last forever. I loved my son, unconditionally, and every moment – even time taken away from sleep – was worth spending with him. A gift. To see his beautiful, brown eyes. His adorable smile. His pink tongue always sticking out so ridiculously. His tiny arms, hands, feet, fingers, and face.
I walked into the nursery room, quickly advancing to where the crib was. I swiftly picked up my son, Liam, swinging him back and forth gently in my arms.
“Shh,” I whistled to him in a soothing voice. His big chocolate-colored eyes staring back at me; his mouth still mewling. But after a few moments, the noise began to silence. I walked around the room, a bounce in my step for his enjoyment, and the crying ceased all together. His eyes were still focused on mine, and the smile on my face finally brought one on his.
“You hungry, buddy?” I whispered. I moved to a dresser on the far side of the room on top of which stood a bottle. I grabbed it and carefully placed the nipple of the bottle in his mouth. But he wasn’t hungry, so I removed it and placed it back on the dresser.
“Alright, come on,” I said to him, carrying him out back into our room, then hastily into the hallway so as to not disturb my wife. I took him to my study where I had various case files lying on top of a large wooden desk. On all four walls stood bookshelves and various other items. On top of one bookshelf was a small model of the Eiffel Tower.
.“You see that, Liam?” I said, pointing to the object. He followed my finger, but if he actually saw what I was pointing at I wasn’t sure. Still, I continued. “That’s a tower. Probably the most famous tower in the world. An iconic landmark.” He smiled back at me as if fascinated by my tale.
Of course I knew he had no idea what I was saying, but my voice was soothing to him. And that was enough for me.
“Your mom and I went there for our honeymoon.” I paused for a moment before continuing, thinking back on the memories. “I still remember that day, that whole week. The most amazing week of my life. Your mother is amazing woman, Liam.” I kissed the top of his head lightly, eliciting another smile from him. “One of these days you’re likely to get married to, and you’ll find the perfect woman just as I did, just you wait.” I heard movement behind me and turned to find her in the doorway.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hey,” she answered, advancing toward me and giving me a kiss before giving four to Liam.
“Not fair,” I mutter, laughing. She laughs with me, kissing me again.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s put Little Liam back to sleep.” I smiled at the alliteration used in his nickname. We must've said it a thousand times, but it never got old.
I nodded and smiled at my son. “Let’s go, buddy. We’ll learn more about towers some other day,” I said, following her into the hallway and back toward our room and then his.
~ :: ~
Theme: Tower. Another 15-minute write-off from last night, one of my favorites. Yes, this is definitely the dad I want to be some day, and this is also the main character in a novel I am somewhat in the process of writing. Anyway, enjoy.
Another 15-minute write-off; the theme: Music. Enjoy.
The music resounded in my ears. The fluttering of the flutes, the whispering of violins like the winds; the pitch getting higher and higher to the point of near pain before suddenly ceasing, then whispering again.
..........It was beautiful.
..........The instruments played on ever furious, the intense melody still somehow soothing. When the last note played, the crowd erupted in applause, and I with them. I clapped loudly, even after all others had ceased. People looked my way, but I continued until the music started again, ignoring the glances and staring of others. Satisfied, I quieted, leaning back in my chair, closing my eyes, and letting the music fill my ears.
..........Again the music came, and I let it inebriate my being, filling my mind with the sweet melody. This was my high. The thrill I sought. To hear the instruments playing together, faster and faster in a crescendo until the climax was met. The clashing of the cymbals, the blasting of the trumpets. The winds, the strings. These were what I loved.
..........My glasses had slipped slightly and I pushed them back up with my index finger. I ran my finger and thumb across my nose, wiping away an itch.
..........I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hands. I stayed for a moment longer, listening to the sweet sound before I stood up from my chair.
~ :: ~
The gunshot reverberated throughout the small room as the man fell onto the now blood-stained carpet. The storage room was located directly beneath the large concert hall, and the glorious euphony could still be heard above.
..........The second man, on his knees, immediately began whimpering, begging for his life to be spared unlike his companion.
..........Most would want him silenced, but I did nothing, and ordered my men to do nothing, simply standing there as his sobs became more and more profound. It was music to my ears.
..........The music above us ceased, and I knew the concert was wrapping up. Too bad. I would’ve liked more time with him, I thought to myself as I put a bullet between his eyes.
..........I looked to the two men standing by the doorway. “Take care of the bodies,” I said simply. They nodded, and I walked out and back into the concert hall, clapping with the myriad of others at the talented musicians.
~ :: ~
I was sick. Sick of myself, sick of whom I had become.
..........Death was a salient part of my life. I had gone places I wished I had never even heard of. Done things. Things that could only be described in a nightmare. And now I was that nightmare. A dæmon. A monster. An eidolon. I had passed the bridge of redemption long ago, leaving it behind and doing only what I was ordered to. Every day I had wished to go back, to turn from my ways, but I never did. Never could. I continued the appalling behavior, letting the demonic side of me take over.
..........I knew there was no going back, yet every day I still hoped that there was. A way to stop the wraith from consuming my being.
..........My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, eyes black as my soul, full of hatred and malice. I hated it. Hated myself. My fist flew toward the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. My hand bled, but I didn’t care. Pain was no longer a concern of mine. Today was the day I would fix everything. Burn the bridges that kept me from changing. Shatter every malicious part of my being just like the broken mirror before me.
..........I finished dressing, tying my tie and then putting on my suit jacket, still staring at my reflection in the mirror, now a kaleidoscope. Those dark eyes still protruded from the lightness of the room, but I could see a hint of light shining forth from the calignosity of my being.
..........I holstered my pistol at the small of my back and left the apartment, ready to take on my controller, the head of the mob family I worked for. No longer would my soul belong to him. No more would I do his every bidding, every atrocious act he ordered.
..........Once this bridge was burned, my soul would be free.
~ :: ~~ Velox
So yesterday I posted a vignette called The Forest, done for a little "write-off" between John (55555) and others. We've been doing them for the past four or five nights now, so I'll probably post more here, but here's the one that we just did. Also, just for a little background on these write-offs: someone chooses a theme (usually John -- in this case, the theme was "Flight"), and then everyone participating (tonight it was Rene [EW], John, Micah [Kakaru], Lord Oblivion, and a couple other people not on BZP) is given that theme and then 15 minutes to write about it, no time for preparation (unless you want to take away from writing time), and no editing afterwards. As such, keep in mind that it is not the quality of my usual work and is unedited.
The FlightWe ran. Ran until our legs burned and our feet blistered. The forest whipped past us as we dodged the trees, not concerned with where we were going as long as it was far away from here. In my arms I carried my 18-month-old son who was crying emphatically. But I ignored his cries, focusing only on the running. Concerned with only his safety and mine.
..........I chanced taking a look behind me and I could still see our pursuers hot on our heels. We weren’t gaining on them. No, they were gaining on us. In the distance smoke still rose from above the tree line.
..........They had come in the middle of the night with no warning, burning our houses, killing everyone in sight. When already half the village was destroyed the warning bell finally came. I was awakened, first from the horrid cries of my neighbors, then the ringing tone of the campanile got me on my feet. I quickly shook my wife awake, a sound sleeper, and grabbed my satchel which I kept for emergencies. I put the bag around my neck and placed my sleeping son in my arms.
..........“Go!” I yelled to my wife, who without hesitation began to run. We made for the tree line, following a small group of others who lived on same side of the village we did, the farthest part from where the attackers came.
..........And so we ran. Ran with all the strength we had. I wished I could help my son, give him something to make him stop crying. Something to tell him it was going to be okay. But I couldn’t. I could only run for dear life and pray to God the barbarians didn’t catch us.
..........My wife had tried to stay with me, but I ordered her to go on; she was faster not having to carry anything. I saw her up ahead, dodging the trees just as I was as she ran. For a brief second I saw her worried, scared, horrified face as she looked back toward me. I knew what she was feeling. We all did, and we all felt the same way.
..........It was hopeless. They’d catch us. But we ran anyway, fleeing from the place we had called home for generations.
..........I tripped over a root of a tree, falling face first into the frondescence that had formed on the ground. I kept my son in the air, taking the force of the fall on my chest and face. Pain seared through my being, but the adrenaline in my system allowed me to ignore it. To fight on. I picked myself up and ran again.
..........Finally, after what had seemed like hours, I looked behind again. No longer were our pursuers following us. I stopped, taking a closer look and realized it was true. They were gone. Our number had lessened, but we were not longer being hunted.
..........I fell to my knees on the forest floor. My wife came up behind me, hugging me closely. Tightly. The other members of our group gathered together to celebrate our victory. We were safe. We were alive. Our flight from the enemy was over.
~ :: ~
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Group: Premier Forum Assistants
Joined: 20-September 07
Member No.: 64089
BZPower Accomplishments ~
|| Account Approved | Administration | 20th September 2007 ||
|| Premier Membership | Dimensioneer | 9th January 2008 ||
|| News Report | Black Six | 13th May 2008 ||
|| Political Discussion | Omicron | 11th September 2008 ||
|| Premier Membership | Dimensioneer | 9th January 2009 ||
|| Comedies Critics Club Curator | Hahil Husky | 24th April 2009 ||
|| Helping Out | Hahli Husky | 24th April 2009 ||
|| Forum Mentor | Black Six | 16th April 2010 ||
|| Short Stories Critics Club Curator | Hahli Husky | 9th August 2010 ||
|| Forum Assistant | Black Six | 20th February 2012 ||
All About Me
Name ~ Andrew
Username ~ Velox
Nicknames ~ V, TV, Felix, etc.
Age ~ 18
Birthdate ~ July 8, 1994
Gender ~ Male
Location ~ Los Angeles, California
Grade ~ College Freshman
Occupation ~ Student
Hobbies ~ Writing, reading, reviewing, listening to music
Interests ~ Books, books, books, and more books. Also reading said books and music and Katie and murder mysteries.
Religion ~ Roman Catholic
Political Views ~ Conservative Republican
Bionicle Character ~ Takanuva and Kopaka
Bionicle set ~ Brutaka
Bionicle Element ~ Electricity, Ice
Color ~ Dark Blue
Animal ~ Wolf, Dragon
Sport ~ Basketball
Standalone Book ~ A Monster Calls, by Patrick Ness; The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
Authors ~ Vince Flynn, Michael Connelly, Agatha Christie, J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Edgar Allen Poe, Jim Butcher, Ted Dekker, and J.K. Rowling.
Musical ~ Les Miserables
Action Trilogy ~ Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy.
Fantasy Trilogy ~ Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings
Drama Movies ~ A Few Good Men, Warrior
Animated Movie ~ Ratatouille
War Movies ~ Black Hawk Down, Saving Private Ryan, Act of Valor
Old TV Shows ~ Sherlock Holmes, with Jeremy Brett; Columbo, with Peter Falk; and The Rockford Files, with James Garner.
New TV Shows ~ Sherlock; Castle; HIMYM; Person of Interest.
Comedy Movie ~ The Princes Bride
Music genres ~ Classical, Soundtracks, Musicals, Rock, Alternative.
Artists ~ ThePianoGuys, Rise Against, Matt Maher, Switchfoot, the Beatles, Billy Joel, and others.
Composers ~ Hans Zimmer, John Williams, Howard Shore, Handel, Vivaldi, Mozart, Beethoven
Board Game ~ Monopoly
Environment ~ "Fall" -- (or Winter, in SoCal)
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Approvals I've given:
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Squid in a Cordak Blaster
Turakii #1 Lava Surfer
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Bundalings the Bunny
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Lego Set List
Approvals I have received:
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Today is the Greatest DayGrantaire - Jun 16 2013 09:00 AM
Top Ten Tuesday #12: Books to RereadPortalfig - Apr 25 2013 05:42 PM
Top Ten Tuesday #12: Books to RereadVelox - Apr 17 2013 01:39 PM
Top Ten Tuesday #12: Books to RereadPortalfig - Apr 17 2013 10:14 AM
Top Ten Tuesday #11: Books I Recommend the MostJean Valjean - Mar 28 2013 01:26 AM
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