Thursday, 29 January 2009


The sun had just begun to rise over the autumn trees. The leaves had only just started to turn, so they were at that magical point where they were still on the trees, but going bright colours of orange and red. The rising sun illuminated them, so it looked as if the trees they clung to were on fire. As rays of sunlight came pouring in, he felt his face become warmer, and the nights chill slowly leaving.
He gazed down the hill, and looked upon his hometown. To the eye it was picturesque: tourists came from all over to see its beauty. “The quiet little down in the heart of the Dyn Valley.” While he was sitting there, he could see why they thought this.
But he knew that there was more to this little welsh town than met the eye. Behind closed doors, he knew a different life, one that wasn’t so innocent. Ever since the death of his mother, he had descended into a downward spiral. “A real mummy’s boy” his father used to taunt.
But it wasn’t that why he knew he’d never forget that night. Three years ago he’d sat on his stairs staring down at her body, her broken neck making her pretty head stick out at a funny angle. He’d heard his father them tell the paramedics that she’d fallen down the stairs. This was so obvious that it was a blatant lie, but they’d believed him.
Everyone had believed this deceit. He honestly never understood why. Maybe they were all idealists, or maybe they didn’t want their precious little town to become tarnished. But then again, he always had been a fantastic actor. They gave him their pity that he’d lost his beautiful, doting wife, and now he was left to bring up a troublesome teenage son.
“Fucking idiots. They’re fucking stupid idiots.” He said to himself: a clear note of danger and rage in his voice. This scared him: he was in danger of becoming exactly like the man he hated: this was what his father sounded like when he was going to attack, when his nights out with the boys had turned into something more sinister.
He extinguished the cigarette he’d managed to forget about in his rather depressing trail of thought; the orange glow was growing dangerously close to his rough fingers. He found a little damp patch of earth to squeeze the little white stick that was destroying his lungs onto. The smoke went up into the air, a smell of tobacco lingering faintly. Somehow with this fire on his tongue life felt more bearable, even just for a little while.
People in the real world were starting to wake up. He could see light-switches flicker on in the houses. He knew that he had to leave soon; his father would wake up with them and just use the fact he’d disappeared as an excuse.

I wrote this a few weeks ago and put it on deviantart.
Here is what I put in the authors comments (if you are following my other blog, you know I love to ramble on about nothing.)

This was some english assignment that we had to do at the start of the year, and we had to include our hometown, our teacher wanted something all pretty and "isn't where we live great?" and I disagree with this, what with myself and my friend getting randomly beat up when we were walking through the park some night. Some girl was off her face on drugs, so I guess you could say if I wrote anymore of the story I could base a character on her. She will die (: (muhehehh)

The title is called "release". The smoking/drinking/drugs is a release for our nameless protagonist, the beating up of our nameless protagonist is a release for his father. (not dad, father...cause he's a crap dad, cause he beats him up...see?...I feel all emo now..)

The red leaves are meant to represent the blood that gets spilled by his dad, and the whole "red sky at night, shepherd's delight, red sky in the morning shepherd's warning" thing, the sky isn't red, but it looks red to him, which shows the story is gonna be pretty pessimistic or that's he's pessimistic, or the day is going to be baad for him which it will be...I kinda have the story mapped out in my head...but in no order in particular, but it all takes place over the course of the day, and it aint happy. (:

Also, I know that I used colons a few times. I like colons, kayy? :P

Monday, 26 January 2009


So...yeah..I like writing, it's a hobby.
I used to be pretty good at it, not so much anymore, so I'm going to attempt to try and get good again.
So I'm going to write stories: short stories or individual chapters of longer stories for y'all to read and comment/constructavely criticise/insult/say you like it/whatever
Enjoy. (: