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paint-it-black
Created on: January 16, 2008, 07:42am
Description:
 Welcome to paint-it-black! This is a cult for both art and friendship alike. Have some art you'd like us to critique? Just want to make some friends who share the same interests as you do? We're the cult for you. We have everything a cult should have, plus more. You don't have anything to lose by joining! | |  001. No drama. 002. Be honest and mature when critiquing artworks. 003. No discrimination. 004. No nudity is to be posted on the boards. If you wish to show an artistic nude, you must provide a link to the picture instead of posting the actual picture. This enables user discretion. 005. Art or literature you submit must be your own creation. If it is a work inspired by another artist, you must credit the original artist. Plagiarism is taken very seriously here and is also in violation of the VampireFreaks Terms of Service. |
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Writing Submission:
Winner: Lunesque
Love of a Friend
Wanting to say a proper good bye, but knowing she didn’t have time, she couldn’t go back now. She walked across the rain washed parking lot. The pain in her chest growing ever more. Reaching the van she wrenched the door open and fell in to the old comfort of the back seat . It was then she could endure the pain no longer. Tears fell like the rain around her. Every part of her ached with the final release of her sorrows. She could deny no longer how she felt. Every moment, happy and sad, came flooding back to her. His simple but pleasing smile, how he jumped the rail, when he danced with her friend all night after which they seemed inseparable. Yet she wasn’t mad. A little jealous perhaps. She loved how random he was at times. When she heard his guitar for the first time, his pure energy, how he had, some what egged her on ‘til she confessed she liked him, then admitted he didn’t share her feelings. And how he opened his arms when he saw her for the first time that day. How, even though she knew of it’s simplicity and insignificance to him, in that briefest of moments, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, her pulse slowed as she forgot her worries. She could hear herself blink, and feel his eyelashes brush pass her cheek for a split of a split second as he pulled away, and their hands would slid down each others arms ‘til only their fingertips touched and the longing to pull him back was a burn in her chest. But not wanting to ruin this rarely happy moment, she let him go. Best of all, was how he could make her smile like no one else, with the simplest of things. A comment or gesture, even just to see him walk across the room. No matter her mood, he never failed to make her grin. But it wasn’t like others. When he made her smile she could feel it fill her up with sunshine. Like she’d never be cold again. Which only reminded her of his hug, and never wanting to let him go. She wished he would hold her for ever. Even if they where only friends, just being near him made her world seem right. She didn’t need or really want a “romantic” relationship. Just a friendship, someone close to her, to let her know the world wasn’t such a horrible place. If he would just hold her hand, he could pull her out of her tragical little circle and on to a straighter path. If she wasn’t so scared maybe he already would have? All these thoughts rushed through her as she lay there in the back seat. She was surprised by the real physical pain it caused her. It felt as though a sword had pierced through her back all the way through to her heart. It burned and froze, stung and numbed her all at once. Her head spun from lack of oxygen. She sucked in quick sharp breaths only to have them stolen from her, forced out by her tears, ‘til finely she let them take her. The pain attacked in waves. But she had stopped fighting. She cried ‘til she could no longer see, so closing her eyes she began to fall asleep. Excepting it was the only way to breath again. For a brief, dark moment she considered fighting off the sleep, letting herself literally drown in her tears, and die here. She reached for her sketch book, but put it back as the thought ebbed away. The words she hadn’t written still burned in her skull “If I Should Die, Tell Him I Love Him.” The sleep won. It consumed her quickly, letting her know she wasn’t going to die. It was a comfort. When she woke, she was at home. She dragged herself to her room and piled her bags in the doorway. She went to the kitchen and hugged the dog. Then she watched a movie; Saawariya, understanding the characters more this time, finding familiar things and feelings though out the film. After the movie, she took out a pencil and a small sketch book. She wrote this “short story” planning to blog it but not so sure that was wise. If you’re reading this now I guess you know her decision…
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