~~~~ Hey! I’ve been writing a lot and I need some help. Just any feedback would be VERY useful! Thank you! ~~~~ BASED OFF OF A METHOD OF TORTURE Everyone forgets how freedom is a gift. A magical impossible gift. One so close that you keep trying to reach it, so CLOSE to touching it, even though it will always be too far to ever reach. It’s liminal hell. An endless hallway of the torturous, relentless feeling of being almost there. But not quite. “Looks like it’s awake…” The familiar chilling voice pulls me backwards farther away from my impossible destination. It snakes around me like a cobra, ready to try and kill my spirits once again. I thrash against the chains, desperate to get away from the inevitable. My heart thumps so hard, I swear the skin will break, making my organs slip out and stain the white tiled floor. “Ah-ah-ah~!” I feel a sharp pain. Then I find myself back at the beginning of the impossible maze. Time for another round of torment. ~~~~ A SMALL PART OF A STORY ILL FINISH I swing on the swing set, closing my eyes as it swings me up… and down… up… and down… The crisp cold air breezes in my face and the only sounds I can hear is the wind wisp through my ears and the soft creak of the swings. I have the playground to myself. Up… down… up… down… Creak… creak… A quiet breeze blows once again, gently taking the pain and fear and blowing it. Up… down… up… down…It gently is carried farther and farther away until it’s completely gone. The warmth almost stinging my skin, but feeling soft and gentle. It spreads across my arms and face, making me smile. Up… down… up… down... Creak…creak… The loneliness is gone, deep into nothing, leaving me alone in the blue sky. White echos grace the vast blue space, the bright sun shining bright but far enough that it doesn’t blind my vision. Another breeze slices through the air, and I powerlessly let it take me. It lifts me gently and the feathery air takes me up and down, up and down, up and down. Up… Air rushes past as I go high into the pleasurable sky, lifting me higher and higher, I swear I feel the clouds. They feel gentle. Warm. Happy. Down… I’m lowered to the floor, allowing me to feel the ground. Lower, I feel animals and roots, cozy in their small underground homes. Up… down… up… down… I fly higher and higher and higher. Then I fall deeper and deeper and deeper. I feel the whole world in each second. I feel the life that surrounds me, and the happiness that comes from the life. Up… down… up… down… The creaking wind is all I hear, and I let the rhythm fill my brain. I never want to leave. Up… down… up… down…
WRITING ASSIGNMENT FOR ENGLISH She was waiting for quite a while. Every thought and feeling was drowned out by the earthy taste of coffee and the quiet patter of rain hitting the world around her. Every drop was a memory; each one hit the ground and seeped below the surface to be forgotten. Each drop may not be noticeable on its own, but together Awea knows they’re there. The world outside was dark, to say the least. Great billowy shadows draped over the world, causing the sea of umbrellas to be dimmed to a beautiful dark grey. Buildings towered above, almost every window lit by the lights inside. She wasn’t sure who she was waiting for. All she knew is that she was supposed to be there. Awea didn’t really mind. She enjoyed the nice cafe, enjoying the warmth layered on her. She loved hoodies. They’re the opposite of the painful attire she had to wear. “Awea Pum.” A voice said. It was smooth and almost alluring. A slight tinge of fear was evident. She hadn’t heard that name in a long time. Awea refused to believe that it was real. Despite her efforts, she knew deep down that she would have to kill again. She looked over to where the voice came from, uneasy. The figure is tall and slender, clearly a dark elf due to their pale blue skin poking through the hood. They definitely use downy ultra soft. The figure wears a dark grey cloak, tattered and soaked from the rain. They walk over to the small table and pull the seat back. The chair being scraped along the ground results into a quiet shrill screech. Awea glared and scoffed. Her mind raced in fear, but she suppressed it under a mask of annoyance. “Where did you hear that name?” She muttered. The elf pulled down their hood, revealing a soft face. His eyes had a compassionate undertone, yet he seemed almost amused. His ears were long and pointed, his hair white and short. His lips pulled upward into a smirk. “I’m sorry, I just simply can’t take a grung seriously. How tall are you? Maybe 3 feet? I assumed that the cold blooded killer Awea would be, well.. an orc, or an elf like myself. But you’re just a tiny frog!” He laughed Awea had heard all of this before. Just because she was used to being mocked for her height didn’t mean she was immune to the rage she felt every time. She let out a deep breath, trying to release her anger in small amounts. “At least I can go out in the sun and not complain about the light.” The man’s smirk fades. “..I see.” He clears his throat and began to look a bit nervous. What a strange man. Awea took another sip of her drink, confused yet intrigued. “Have a name?” The man nods. “Yes, I do.” Awea, expecting an answer, gestured, urging him to tell her his name. The man didn’t budge. He simply stayed quiet. Awea sighed, getting frustrated. “What is it?” “That is none of your concern.” She snorted in amusement. This isn’t a threat. Just a wannabe intimidating man. “Ok, nameless, why are you here?” Nameless hesitated, uncertainty and fear flashes on and off in his face. He fidgets. “I have.. some information for you.” He said softly. Awea looks at him in confusion. Information? What type? He seems genuinely scared, so it must be true. “5 years ago, you were told to kill my brother who knew too much. He survived.” Awea freezed and her mind raced. He survived. That smug jerk survived. Awea remembers that night. It was a quiet night, the only sound was the cars rushing by. She snuck behind the victim who was mindlessly spray painting an ally way. It was dirty and littered, yet the bright colors the victim painted were gorgeous. Awea snuck behind the victim and sliced his neck. Shes killed many, so she felt no guilt or regret in killing him. The victim gasped in shock. His eyes widened and he touched the blood seeping from his neck. He looked at it and then looked at Awea. He smirked smugly. “You.. are the killer…You.. don't seem that tough, frog..” He stands taller. “I could… I could take you..” Awea has never seen a victim who was so bold and so real. Her brain started to flicker. She felt a tug at her heart so vicious it started to hurt her chest. This isn’t just a victim. None of them were victims. They all were alive. They all had lives. And Awea was born to take that away from them. ~~~~ OK GIVE ME FEEDBACK PLZ ~~~~
