Well, I guess I've posted some short stuff up here recently, but in all honesty, I'm not pleased on how they turned out. I've decided to start something new, and I do hope you all like it. Yes, it may be long and detailed, and I apologize if I go overboard on it. Tell me if I do, please. Thankyou, and all the CnC you can offer is appreciated. ~Emzy <3 Spoiler Prologue I stared into the eyes before me; I could do this forever, and still not find my answer as to how they had grown to be so damn beautiful. The emotion held in them, portrayed through emerald pools, seemed similar to anxiety. I wondered internally at what she was so nervous about... She could trust me by now, and she knew it. I had promised my trust to her, and she had accepted it with an open heart and mind alike. “I love you.” She whispered, her hand touching mine. We were so close now; I could smell the sweet scent of her alluring breath brush towards me like a warm breeze. I examined her face again, paying close attention to her soft features, which were now glowing from the light of the sun. She was smiling, her white teeth glowing just as much as she does as a whole. Silence. I was staring at her, speechless, my face glued into a gormless expression as the atmosphere grew thicker between us. We were alone, lapsed together into an intimate silence that longed to be broken. I could feel my heartbeat increase, beating almost as fast as my thoughts that ran through my panicked mind. My breathing followed suit as it also picked up speed, my lungs and body burning for more air. “Well?” She mumbled, scanning my face with those amazing eyes of hers. “...What’s wrong?” Again, the silence that followed screamed for someone to smash it. Smash it to pieces and never let it return. I felt obliged to do so, but grew more panicked as I attempted to collect myself – and the words of which I wanted to utter back to her. “I...I don’t know.” I mumbled back, swallowing back a minor lump in my throat. “And... I don’t know whether I’ll be able to say it back.” ~ Chapter One Concealed Anxiety It was probably wise that this change had happened. I mean, it wasn’t as if Mum and Dad actually got along... They argued more than they spoke for the vast majority of their time spent together, anyway. I could tell this was coming, and the shock that would have hit me if I hadn’t of predicted this, would have hurt a lot more than the form of numbness I was experiencing at this time; as of right now, I felt completely lost in a sea of senseless babble. The world around me still had sound, but only a toneless, muted hum that didn’t make sense. I had to really concentrate to make out the individual words properly, and that wasn’t an effort I was in the mood to make; my head was hurting, stuffy from what seemed like cotton wool clotting my mind, leaving no space to let enough oxygen reach and replenish my brain cells. This made me woozy, dizzy, and slightly sick of the world around me. What hurt the most, was knowing that I was just another girl in this school of several hundred pupils, whose parents had split up. Perhaps it sounds idiotic to hear about the turmoil in my parent’s relationship, and know that I am so upset – if that is the correct word to use – about them parting forever, swearing to each other that they won’t go back on it. But in reality, I liked having that security there; knowing that if my mum would argue with me, I would have my dad, and if I argued with my dad, I would always have my mum. Now I have my mum. Nothing more, nothing less to say on the subject. Just me and her... ...So maybe optimism isn’t my strongest point, but hey, I’m a truthful person in the end. A truthful person who doesn’t coat a damn thing in sugar. Although, if I really want to be positive, I could say that things will look up soon... But really, they aren’t. ***I sat, clamped towards the rumbling window beside me. The car was silent, again, like most rainy mornings. That’s the only time I ever got a car ride to school, as I normally walk ten minutes down the road to a stupid bus stop. Some might call me lazy, but I think that if they were the ones fixing their hair infront of a mirror for a full hour every morning, they would want to stay out of the rain, too. “Rainy day...” My mom commented, sighing as we hit yet another set of red lights. I turned down the volume of my iPod, and twisted, looking at her from the passenger seat. Her blue cobalt eyes were squinted into little slits, showing the crow lines striking out from the corners. Her lips – although very slim - were tightly pursed together and twisted into a small scrunch just left to where her mouth should be sitting. “...Yeah, I suppose.” I mumbled a reply, wrapping my black coat further around me. She huffed at this, and looked out of her side-window – clearly unsatisfied with my answer. This was a perfectly normal reaction, and one that I completely expected; my mother was never satisfied. Now that I think about it, the subject of my mother’s undying dissatisfaction with every detail of everything was the main subject of every argument that erupted in our home. Either the main subject or the origin of why she would make a vicious and uncalled for comments against my brother, my dad, or me. Yes, I have a brother. Don’t remind me. Right now, he is with my dad, enjoying his extended summer break via Spain. I hate him, and the fact that he can swap England for a foreign country for the plain reason that his parents have divorced. Hey, they’re my parents too, and I’m the one stuck here in this house that’s engraved with every damn family memory from the age of four upwards. You don’t see me carting my ass off to another country and pickling my liver like him. Yet he gets all the sympathy. “Hey pixie how’s Darren?” “Hey Pix, how’s your brother holding up?” And so on. The car stopped, making the patter of the rain seem ever so louder on the windows and steel of the car roof. I shuffled, adjusting my black jacket and flipping the hood up fluently to protect my head from any precipitation that may aim itself at my head or facial area. “Bye.” I waved feebly, already out of the vehicle before my mum could even turn to look at me. She faltered slightly, waving back with one hand up at me – which was now one wedding and engagement ring less than the last time she had waved me off from here. “Have a lovely day-” Slam. The clatter of the shutting car door forced an abrupt ending on my mum’s happy facade; she knew that I wouldn’t have a ‘lovely day’, and that I just really wasn’t happy in the slightest with what was happening, and the favouritism that was being shown here. I don’t care if she rants at me when she picks me up, as long as I just don’t get that ‘everything will work out in the end honey’ act. It pisses me off, rather than comforts me. ***Walking into the warm classroom, I inhaled the tepid air in an attempt to warm up my insides. “You’re late.” A whiney voice accused, slicing through the cosy atmosphere like a blade through soft flesh. My gaze turned, landing on the rake-like woman slouched forward over a bulky computer, in the far right corner of the rectangular room. Her lips were parted, as usual, letting her straight – yet large – white teeth hang out slightly. Her fake-tanned skin seemed to glow in contrast to her incisors, bringing slight hilarity to the stern look on her face as she whipped her ratty brown hair behind her shoulder. Standing up, she towered close to six feet high, her ankles wobbling in her pathetically heeled shoes. She was so slim; I often wondered whether she was involved in a rolling pin accident at birth. It made me chuckle at times, as she often made attempts to wear fashionable clothing – which she should, considering she was only about twenty-six or something – and it really, really failed. She just couldn’t pull it off. “Yeah, I kinda am.” I sighed, strolling towards my seat in the front row, just to the left of her desk in the left corner. I could feel her beady eyes leering at me the full way – I swear I could smell smoke rising from the side of my head as I walked. I took my seat, focussing on the speckled wood table infront of me as I removed my jacket and stuffed it in my backpack. Yes, I own a backpack. A sexy chequered one at that. “So, don’t I get an apology?” The whiney voice of my form teacher declared. “What? I was a minute late due to the traffic.” I mumbled back. “Late nonetheless.” I sighed, knowing exactly how this day was going to map out. *** “Hey Pix, you heard about that new kid?” A low voice asked casually. I turned, raising one black eyebrow at the lanky, spotty boy behind me. New kid? Now that was a first. This school – it being so small – gets hardly any new comers, and any that do arrive here hardly last a whole year. People are so...bitchyy and vicious, in all honesty. It really is a surprise that I’m still here. I smelt the strong scent of cheap cologne and knew almost instantly it was Clark. He and two other tremendously shorter boys stood awkwardly behind me, awaiting my reply. His light ginger hair hung down in between his shoulder blades, tied loosely in an elastic band of sorts, swishing into view every so often as he glanced about his surroundings – our surroundings – forestalling eye contact. “Why are you asking me?” I shrugged, my backpack moving in sync with my low, dangling shoulders. He was much taller than I was; I don’t know how much by, but I had to arch my head back to look him directly in the eyes. He was my age, too. But I guess not all fifteen year olds can be a ‘five-foot-two-inch midget’ like me. “I dunno.” He shrugged back, averting his eyes around the corridor. I swear, underneath the mountainous acne and clamminess, he blushed a little. We often met like this; an awkward passing in the hallways as I travelled for my dinner and he made his way to the large field to play some football. Regularly, Clark made his way towards me on purpose, and made small talk in an attempt to get a few words out of me. It was obvious from even my point of view that he liked me in a way – despite his over reactive denial speeches that he gives after each accusation thrown in his direction. I don’t care to be honest; I know he likes me, he knows he likes me, every man and their dog knows he likes me, and has done since, like, we first met three years ago or something. But damn, he just isn’t... Nice. “...Okay then.” I turned and walked down the corridor, my eyes focussing on my black leather shoes along the way. I felt him looking at the back of my head, his vision seeming to sear through my black strands of hair and engrave his initials on the back of my brain. Ouch. As per usual, Dinner was boring. I couldn’t help but assume that the new girl was going to be the talk of my next lesson, and that a-million-and-one questions were going to be thrown about the room like hot pieces of coal – all unanswered, but each questioner satisfied that he or she had a word in amongst the rest. I wasn’t one for gossip, and I doubt that I ever will be when all we have to talk about is another female joining the clan of make-up, weight and appearance obsessed *****es that confined themselves to the innards of this hellhole. God, I can imagine her now; blonde, uptight, snobby, inch and a half of beauty products cramped into the small, spiteful area that was her face, and an attitude to match her stinking smoke-filled breath. Oh, joy. My assumptions were typically correct; I walked into my last lessons, and got lathered, pummelled, and totally buried in queries about this fresh piece of meat that was to be thrown in here. Supposedly, she was going to be in my form class when she eventually arrives. She was due to turn up last week, but something about transfers and uniform have held her up at home. Hah. More like she wanted a few days to starve herself and lose weight in preparation for the big show. I ignored the excited babble of the same repeated topic, at the same time just stopping myself from screaming ‘IT’S A NEW GIRL. GET OVER IT.’ Which they did; they really needed to get over a new person appearing. She probably wasn’t anything special at the last school, isn’t anything special now, and won’t be anything amazing in the future. No, not probably. Certainly.
Okay, I'm not a fan of first person most of the time anyways so I'm not really familiar with this format. That said, please bear with me. Overall, I think this is okay. The prologue doesn't exactly have a concrete meaning yet, which could either be a good or bad thing depending on how you want it interpreted. But that's not too major anyways. There are some grammatical errors along the way like, "if I hadn’t of predicted this". That's not right. "had not of predicted" is just bad grammar and doesn't even fall under colloquialism so I'd change that and things of that nature. Formatting wise I would only change this, ""Hey pixie how’s Darren?†“Hey Pix, how’s your brother holding up?â€", by adding a line break because it looks sloppy together and it's bad style. The story itself is not too developed and you tend to leave describing things a little further along than I'd like them but that's just taste. Technical errors are pretty minimal but I just don't find myself incredibly enthusiastic or interested in this. Maybe it's just the premise of the story but I do think the writing is adequate either way.
I agree with everything you are saying, and I have actually rewritten the full thing. I'm still doing so now, and will edit the original post accordingly. Thanks again x
