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Friday, April 29, 2011

Sarah and Sam

Sarah sat on her bed, trouble and distraught. There was a deep darkness to her face that simply felt unnatural. It was unlike her to be this empty. Sam sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her. It helped slightly, Sarah forced a crooked smile as tears started dripping down her face. Not having the slightest clue what was troubling her, Sam whispered in her ear. "What's wrong, Sarah?"
Sarah shooked her head. "Everything's fine, nothing's wrong at all.. It's just... I don't know... Ugh. My life is a complete wreck right now! Dad's left, Mom's dying, My grades are horrible. I'm Scared Sam.. I'm really scared. I feel all alone." 
Sam loved Sarah deeply, they've been best friends for years but he never had the guts to tell her how he felt. He hugged Sarah harder and kissed her on the cheek. "Everything will be alright soon, I'm here for you... I'll never leave you."
 Sarah took Sam by the hands, deeply grateful for his company. On the brink of depression, thoughts of suicide ran through her mind. She gazed deep into his eyes. In that moment of suspense, she felt at ease, her mind was clear. She was at peace with herself. The reflection of her face in Sam's eyes sparked a flame inside her. She knew what she had to do. 

That passion and flame inside her grew, fuelled by teen spirit and raging hormones. Sarah started kissing Sam passionately. Sam taken by surprise stiffened as his arms went rigid. Not knowing what to do he simply sat there while Sarah flung herself at him, tearing through his dark red checkered shirt. This was the day he'd been waiting for all his life. All those erotic dreams and thoughts were coming true, yet he couldn't bring himself to do anything.
Sarah grabbed Sam's right arms and placed it on her left breast, moving it about. Sam squeezed gently and lightly, the soft supple flesh bouncing around within the palm of his hands. It felt wrong, Sam didn't feel the slightest bit of arousal. He was exploiting her. She was at her most vulnerable point in life and he was taking advantage of her. He pulled his face away from Sarah. " I can't do this Sarah.. It's wrong, you're my best friend."





WHAT A FUCKING NINCOMPOOP. I WOULD'VE FUCKED THE HELL OUT OF HER



HALP HALP HALP

SHE SAYS SHE'S NO GOOD WITH WORDS, BUT I'M WORST.

really? like literally?
me of all people? I'm a brilliant writer.
I am the Shakespeare of the 21st Century.
The rising star of Pop Culture.
Fame and Fortune awaits me.
My throne is waiting to be claimed.
Haters shall perish and banished to the ethereal.
I'm a FUCKING GOD.
Kneel Before me and submit to your master.
Submission.
Domination.
You are my creation
You are my work of Art.
My Great Gatsby, My Le Morte D'Arthur


THE SCRIPT

i need to write a script for a script writing competition, however I am out of brain juice. I can't even bring myself to do any of my assignments and i haven't touched a single piece of work for about a week now. Really, how do you expect me to start thinking of ideas for a story. It's pretty fucking stupid thou, how I can not think of anything or get my creative juices flowing when I literally spent the entire holidays watching movies, videos and short films. I'm in a huge fucking dillema now. I  feel like an old engine that's lost all its steam. My parts are rusty and the coat is peeling.

As I sit here in my bedroom,shivering cold, listening to Newton Faulkner i keep thinking about shoving a pen up my bum and turning it around constantly forcing it in and out. With each thrust, my hormones start to rage and I yell out in sadistic pleasure. I feel my penis starting to stiffen as the blood gushes through, darkening the muscles. In that moment I feel at ease. My senses aroused and my needs satisfied. At this very moment, i know what it truly feels like to be a man. To be a fucking Anal retard.

omfg.
lol.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Conversations




Random tunes on the notebook played as Ray sat on his bed, covered in layers and layers of blankets. It was a cold chilly night and as the wind howled and banged against the windows of his 100 year old apartment. Ray felt miserable about his life. Kelvin was an awesome friend to Ray, having been through some of his most difficult times in life but there was just something that Ray was finding difficult to come to terms with. Being in a new environment and all, he just wanted to play safe but still take chances. Trivial things like money have always been a problem for Ray. Coming from a family with high expectations and demands Ray’s pretty much pressured and confused. Perhaps he may not be who he thinks he is.

As he stared at the notebook aimlessly clicking through random pages of Facebook friends, whom half of which he had lost, contact with, there was a sense of loss in his eyes. Blank as they may seem it wasn't the old jubilee, cocky Ray that night. He was something else; there was definitely a difference about him. Something sinister was playing in his head. Recent events, one would assume, but that cynical grin across his tight gaunt pale face and his widened eyelid was a cause for concern. He seemed depressed and terribly troubled. 

*BANG BANG BANG* the sound of wood being thudded echoed throughout the entire room and bits of dust started dropping off the ceiling. Ray woke out of his daze and looked around for the door. "WHHHAT!?" he yelled in an annoyed tone. The door swung wide opened bringing with it beams of light from the other room and there was Kelvin, his roommate, with a jug filled with some yellow substance. Without permission Kelvin let himself into the room with a wide grin plastered on his face, the kind that The Joker would wear. At this point Ray immediately shut his notebook and sat up straight, wondering what was it that Kelvin was about to say.  "SPLASH!" "HAHA MOTHERFUCKERR! Shouted Kelvin and took off in a sprint leaving the door UN shut. The jug fell onto the floor with a loud crack. 

Drenched in a putrid shower of yellow substance, the smell of ammonia stricken Ray’s nose and he knew exactly what it was. "Yuck pew pew pew pew" he spat out the minuscule droplets of liquid that entered his lips. He slid off his bed and took any valuables away from the contaminated area. Fury and rage was starting to consume Ray as he clenched his fist and pounded at the now soaked in urine bed. "What the Fuck is this supposed to be? Ray started talking to himself. Pushing all the unaffected clothes and sheets away from the source of the spreading flood, he accidentally stepped on a piece of jagged glass from the broken jar "AHHHHHRRRHG HOLY SHIT, FUCK FUCK FUCK!" it was deep, a very big piece of glass had penetrated his left foot and he was starting to lose a lot of blood. Now stained in piss and covered in blood from the ankle length, Ray took his black shirt off and cut a strip off it with his teeth. Teeth clenched hard against the cloth he closed his eyes as beads of perspiration trickled down his creased forehead, veins started to appear, the agony he was going through was intense. With the rest of the torn shirt he wrapped them around his hands and proceeded to pull the jagged glass away from the deep cut. 

At this point Tears began to well in his eyes from the insane pain that he had to endure, his face turned a shade of bright crimson red as he held his breath and tugged as hard as he could on the glass. 
Blood immediately started gushing out of his foot and was beginning to stain the carpet with thick red coagulated stains. The hole in his feet was wide enough to stuff a box of cigarettes. In a desperate attempt for assistance Ray yelled as loud as his lungs could "FUCKING HELP ME SOMEONE, WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT SON?!"  He limped towards the door with his right knee, crying in frustration and agony. Was anyone going to render him any assistance? As he pulled the shelf towards him, things started getting blurry. He was talking gibberish and tried as best as he could to hold on for support. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. In a last ditch attempt to speak he exhaled his final words "whhh--yy?" finally he blacked out and laid there on the floor foaming from the mouth leaving behind a trail of blood on the carpet. 


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"I'm not dead, No I can't be" these were the first words I uttered after regaining consciousness. I looked down at my hands, they weren't bloody, my feet weren’t aching and I smelt normal. I wasn't drenched it blood or filth. A sense of uncertainty came across me. I looked up at the individual in front of me, he had a white suit on and an Angelic face, it was too good to be human. I have never seen such facial features before, exquisite, supple, and bright. Almost as if it was perfection. I looked up at the man and told him "I can't be dead!" At initial glance he looked just like any other human except for the angelic features, till he tilted towards the side to inspect my legs. I was struck with awe at the sight of the feathery wings that were protruding out of his white suit. They were massive and pure, white pure...
"Oh Dear, another one in denial! Look, he said addressing me; I'm just going to do a quick background check on you that's all. I can't answer any of your questions. There will be time for that later. Please lie still. I need to check your judgment."

"What?? You mean like Heaven or Hell? Is this for real? But. No. I can't be dead I just lost a lot of blood. My friend was just pulling a prank on me, You got to check this again, this can't be right I'm only 19!!" I was starting to sound hysterical at this moment.
He stopped me right there with his warm hand to my chest. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked me up and down. I stared at his eyes dreamily as they moved around his sockets. He sniffed, looked at his notepad and made some sort of scribbling on it. "Stand up please!" I felt slightly uneasy about doing just that but nevertheless I tried lifting my right foot initially, seemed fine. Left foot next, oh perfect, I stood up and looked around. I started sniffing on my shirt, definitely no putrid smell there. I was perfect, my skin was flawless and my legs were perfect.  I was untouched, uninjured. I was dead...

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"What the..." as I stared at square boxes on the Ceilings. “Not Again" I couldn't move any part of my body, I was strapped down to a bed. I was at a hospital, I hate hospitals, and I’ve never liked them. They have always been a sign of failure. It was always something stupid and serious that lands me in here. Frustration grew and I wished I had control of my hands.  I closed my eyes; I didn't want my family to see me this way. How was I to explain how I ended up in a predicament like this once again? "God Damn It!"
I heard the familiar swoosh of medical gowns and the efficient tap of footsteps. I tried to stay calm and control my breathing; not wanting to accelerate my heart beat.

"Hello?" I didn't move. "If you would just sit up, then I can take a look at you." I stayed perfectly still. A grunt of dissatisfaction came from the end of my bed. A few brisk tapping sounds - a computer keyboard - and the voice spoke again. "You can hear me. Please sit up; I'm on a pretty tight schedule. That sounded unusual. I couldn't help it, one eye flickered open and the sight before me made me jerk upright. The buckles that held me against my will came unloose. There was a doctor at the end of my hospital bed except she had... wings. They sprouted from her back, giant, feathered and, the weirdest thing, yellow! "Wait, so I'm not alive?" Her face creased in concern. "No, I'm sorry, darling, you're dead."I couldn't help it, a smile started growing and soon I had a full-blown grin spread across my face. "Is everything alright?" She looked rather confused. I realized I must look insane. I searched for a plausible explanation. "Yeah, uh, so you're an angel right?" She nodded. "Well, are angels supposed to have yellow wings?"She gave me a relieved smile. I was sure I wouldn't have received that if I told her the truth. "Well, I suppose white is traditional, but we can have any color we want and I just feel yellow is so much warmer and, well, friendlier!"She beamed. God, I hoped all angels weren't that happy. I wouldn't last a day.


Special thanks to ~DarkAngel~FlameTear (Deviant Art)  for the ending
This was a very unexpected story, it started with me lying in bed, trying to doze off 
and somehow i ended up finding myself engaged in what I was writing. So this is what 
came out of it I guess. (: hope you guys enjoy. One of my randomness moments again. 

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Don't Judge Me

Every once in a while I stare at pictures of ripped men either naked or half naked. Don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean i have any homosexual tendencies or that I'm trying to force myself to be gay.

Look at it this way, I'm fast approaching 20 and that's almost one-fifth of my life (assuming i live to be a hundred) I'm overweight, unfit and terribly unattractive. I spend 8 hours a day fighting pixels on World of Warcraft and having a go at my shaft, to non-existant cartoon Japanese twins.

These pictures help me to realise what I'm missing out on life and all the other pleasures that come along with having a six-pack ab, lean thighs and a chiseled chest.
For Fuck's Sake can you blame me?




Thursday, April 21, 2011

cant sleep


lost, well a bit like that.
but still aware of goal.
definitely wants a distraction 
thou aware of its evil.

tired, more like reserves are suppresed.
momentarily at least.
ambitious, definitely not a bad thing
for the right reasons thou?

companionship, relating couldn't hurt a bit,
same old stories bore me.


to infinity and beyond
to infinity and beyond
vast...
vast..

slumber in my eternal haven of emptiness.