N3RD
New member
Normally, i dont write stories. i write poems and i draw. writing stories was just not me because i cant get senteces to sound like sentences. it would end up sounding somethinng like this:
"so then she told everyone about what happened last night and why her car was missing."
wasnt that awkward? didnt it not make sense at all? well...it might have a bit but for sure its a fugly sentence. every writing i do i need some suggestions or comments pretty please? Okay, well, this story im starting to write just came straight from my head. there was no planning, no re writes, or editing, just pure writing. i call this story: Circus of the Rejects
-prologue-
They were missing. Actually, they were still missing since the day it happened. Two thirteen year olds, a boy and a girl missing from their homes after that new trend was out for their type. Last scene where each of them ran away. One boy, Zac, a kid who doesn't care what comes out of his mouth if it was a bad thing or a good thing. The last time someone saw him was in the boys' room, with a carving knife. The girl, Rach, a girl who was always pushed away by her folks and peers. The last time someone saw her was in the park, trying to hang herself onto the swing area. It was strange how they both disappeared at the same time, the same day, when the two barely knew each other. The thirteenth hour of the thirteenth day... It wasn't superstitious or anything but it was suspicious.
-chapter one-
"That kid!! Catch that kid!!" a store owner yelped frantically from his cashier stand. He scrambled through the newspapers and new products trying to run after the runt who stole a cigarette pack right in front of his eyes. He was clever for a young boy like him. Smooth talking his way out to steal something that was just under his nose.
Zac ran as fast as he could thinking to himself he was the gingerbread man, dodging pass old ladies with their canes, pitbulls and theire muzzles, skateboarders...it was tempting to take their boards to make it easier to run away from police. It didn't matter now though. This was his third pack of cigars that day, and he had never said it to anyone but himself-he was addicted. Just like any other addict kid, he didn't care if he died. Just as long as he didn't have to see people who mouth him off.
It was a hot hazy day, and Zac was so not in the mood of running away from people in uniforms. Like, it was a pack of cigarettes... so what? The world wouldn't crumble because he stole just ONE cigarette pack from a store he never came to.
I'm gonna kill that guy when I see him again, Zac thought. He escaped through a cool alleyway, and he grabbed hold onto a rusty escape ladder that ran up the abandoned apartment that was soon to be taken down. He climbed, holding onto the pack in his mouth and climbing his way up. This was the only way off fooling the police men, or to Zac, Addict Haters.
Just in the other side of town, Rach was in a fist fight with a drunk eighteen year old in the streets. Rach suffered a bleeding nose from the blind punch the drunk girl gave her. That didn't stop her, oh no, it didn't. She knew how to fight back. If she didn't know how to fight, why would she be running away? She grabbed the alcoholic by the back of her head, and slammed her forehead against the brick wall. She scraped it against the rough bricks, as the alcoholic screamed like an old hag. Blood began to trickle down the alcoholic's forehead down her cheeks.
"You *****!!" Rach screamed just as the alcoholic attempted another blow to her head.
In the distance, Rach heard police sirens going on and it seemed like she had to run for it. She dashed leaving the alcoholic to bleed, she was okay, remembering when she was in grade school she was the fastest in her class. She scored the 200 meter dash for 1st place in track and field and she was running for the thrid graders.
Why didn't she just die? Why did she have to keep on running away from the police people? It was pointless to live so why can't it be pointless to die?
"so then she told everyone about what happened last night and why her car was missing."
wasnt that awkward? didnt it not make sense at all? well...it might have a bit but for sure its a fugly sentence. every writing i do i need some suggestions or comments pretty please? Okay, well, this story im starting to write just came straight from my head. there was no planning, no re writes, or editing, just pure writing. i call this story: Circus of the Rejects
-prologue-
They were missing. Actually, they were still missing since the day it happened. Two thirteen year olds, a boy and a girl missing from their homes after that new trend was out for their type. Last scene where each of them ran away. One boy, Zac, a kid who doesn't care what comes out of his mouth if it was a bad thing or a good thing. The last time someone saw him was in the boys' room, with a carving knife. The girl, Rach, a girl who was always pushed away by her folks and peers. The last time someone saw her was in the park, trying to hang herself onto the swing area. It was strange how they both disappeared at the same time, the same day, when the two barely knew each other. The thirteenth hour of the thirteenth day... It wasn't superstitious or anything but it was suspicious.
-chapter one-
"That kid!! Catch that kid!!" a store owner yelped frantically from his cashier stand. He scrambled through the newspapers and new products trying to run after the runt who stole a cigarette pack right in front of his eyes. He was clever for a young boy like him. Smooth talking his way out to steal something that was just under his nose.
Zac ran as fast as he could thinking to himself he was the gingerbread man, dodging pass old ladies with their canes, pitbulls and theire muzzles, skateboarders...it was tempting to take their boards to make it easier to run away from police. It didn't matter now though. This was his third pack of cigars that day, and he had never said it to anyone but himself-he was addicted. Just like any other addict kid, he didn't care if he died. Just as long as he didn't have to see people who mouth him off.
It was a hot hazy day, and Zac was so not in the mood of running away from people in uniforms. Like, it was a pack of cigarettes... so what? The world wouldn't crumble because he stole just ONE cigarette pack from a store he never came to.
I'm gonna kill that guy when I see him again, Zac thought. He escaped through a cool alleyway, and he grabbed hold onto a rusty escape ladder that ran up the abandoned apartment that was soon to be taken down. He climbed, holding onto the pack in his mouth and climbing his way up. This was the only way off fooling the police men, or to Zac, Addict Haters.
Just in the other side of town, Rach was in a fist fight with a drunk eighteen year old in the streets. Rach suffered a bleeding nose from the blind punch the drunk girl gave her. That didn't stop her, oh no, it didn't. She knew how to fight back. If she didn't know how to fight, why would she be running away? She grabbed the alcoholic by the back of her head, and slammed her forehead against the brick wall. She scraped it against the rough bricks, as the alcoholic screamed like an old hag. Blood began to trickle down the alcoholic's forehead down her cheeks.
"You *****!!" Rach screamed just as the alcoholic attempted another blow to her head.
In the distance, Rach heard police sirens going on and it seemed like she had to run for it. She dashed leaving the alcoholic to bleed, she was okay, remembering when she was in grade school she was the fastest in her class. She scored the 200 meter dash for 1st place in track and field and she was running for the thrid graders.
Why didn't she just die? Why did she have to keep on running away from the police people? It was pointless to live so why can't it be pointless to die?