Category: Short Stories

Share your imagination| write fiction/non-fiction, fantasies of vampires and Dragons and unknown worlds…

I breathe into the nighttime air, leaving clouds of warmth, but soon like my happiness, it vanishes. I sit once again on the rusty, old chair. Within seconds, the frozen surface leaves my body numb. The chair creaks under me, on the balcony that I know cannot support my weight. Like it matters, I’d rather fall to a 3-story death then continue on with my miserable life, leading nowhere.

Music droned on, with no end approaching, and cries were heard from all directions. My heart has been pushed to the ground and forced to regain balance, only to be pushed again to the cold, hard ground of depression. This time, it’s done trying, like a beetle, dead after struggling on it’s back to get up again. Mallory isn’t the only thing dead, my joy, happiness, faith and the peace in my heart died with her. My sister was everything to me, and no one loved her more than I do in the room. My cousin approaches me, her face moist with tears, her mouth opens, like she wants to say something, but it becomes clear that like the rest of us, the sadness is too much and she walks away crying. This was just too much, even for a mistreated nobody. I kick the wall, hard, and scream, “I hate my life! I wish I was dead like her!”. Heads turned, eyes widened and people looked at my with sympathy.

END OF PART ONE

Tell me how this so far!

You liked rainbows.

That’s all my addled brain remembers about being a kid. You. Loved. Rainbows.

In primary school you hand me a piece of a paper and my pencil case (that you oh so sneakily stole from my backpack. Just kidding. I always watched you struggle with my panda backpack) with this determined little look on your face.

“Draw me a rainbow, Adam”

I never quite understood why you couldn’t draw your own rainbows. But I did so, willingly. You would watch me quietly, handing me the coloured markers from my pencilcase.

When I was through drawing you your stupid rainbow, you would hug me tightly, sniff my hair (because you were just THAT normal) and say “You SMELL like rainbows”

“What do rainbows smell like?” I ask you. Just curious.

“Unicorns” You reply.

“And unicorns?”

“Marshmallows”

“What do marshmallows smell like?”

“That makes no sense….”

I smile.

“Wanna know what else doesn’t make sense?”

“What?”

“YOUR FACE!”

I start spluttering and giggling and you burst into tears. You were so weak back then.

I was sat on the “naughty-chair” for 7 minutes. A minute for each year of my age. The teachers were pathetic too. I never learnt. I used to love teasing you.

You (eventually) learned to fight back and by the time we were in high school you were being pretty mean to me as well.

You’re still horrible now. You whine and complain. A lot. If you’re bored you’ll poke me, prod me, ask me what I’m doing until I snap at you.

But you still love rainbows. And unicorns. And marshmallows. And getting me into trouble.

I still love you.

And you still love me.

“Draw me a rainbow”

Pahaha, xThreeDaysGracex was in such a random mood while writing this

NinJa: She was in the HAPPY part of her imagination…with unicorns and rainbows and marshmallows and where everybody is happy……

So. Russell loves rainbows. Nuff said xD

I hate the endings of my short stories ;_____;

Yeah…Adam has a panda backpack because he’s that awesome enough to get away with having one. I used to have a Sanrio backpack for school :3

I am definitely drawing something for this. Wish I could post a drawing I did….but….it may freak some people out…it’s not horrible or anything….just….seems like something a depressing person like me wouldn’t draw ^w^ You can see it on my Flickr (:

Peace out…

XxTheBlackParadexX

**WARNING! THIS STORY IS HORRIBLE. I FELT SICK WRITING IT, SO YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE IT. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE COMMENTS ABOUT IT WAS TOO GRISLY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

“You’re not a monster, Jack.”

Jack glared at her. “You don’t understand.”

The young woman moved closer. “I do, Jack. I know what it feels like. I’ve killed, I’ve gone insane, but I lived. I fought back. You can too.”

“No!” Jack moaned,”Stop it! You don’t know. I felt so powerful, I could do whatever I wanted to them. And I did. I’m evil.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re a murderer. A deranged, killing, psychopathic young boy, but you’re not evil.”

Jack cracked a smile. “No.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No?”

“Don’t joke. I can kill you right now. I could rip your throat apart and gouge your eyes out. And I want to. That’s what burns me up -that I want to. I like killing. I’m a monster.”

A girl walked into the room. She couldn’t have been more than seven. She saw the two of them talking in the corner. She screamed. The woman tiptoed  over to her. “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She stroked the girl’s hair, her hand gently caressing her face. Then it moved down to her throat.

Jack extracted the marrow from her bones, the blood staining his face as he hungered for more. Her mangled corpse lay on the floor, limbs broken and removed, her heart a meal for a monster.

The woman had lost all her talk of moving on. She was the same. They were killers, Jack and her. They did things no human should do. And he enjoyed it. He loved the blood on his lips, the flesh in his teeth and everything else. Both of them.

A well matched pair of monsters.

He’s broken.

Limbs twisted, bones shattered. And yet, he’s so perfect, in every single way.

I wanted to hold him, cherish him, somehow mend him back together again. I wanted to stroke his hair like I used to, tell him that we’d somehow make it through another day; everything was going to be alright.

Today is his funeral.

I’m sat at the kitchen table staring at my knuckles, which are scratched and bleeding from punching the wall for a good hour or two. I would’ve carried on punching it if it weren’t for my brother walking in.

“Oi,” he grabs my wrists and forces them firmly to my sides “Adam wouldn’t want you to do this…he wouldn’t even want you to be upset…”

Tears are falling to the table now.

People are outside the door, whispering

“Why is he THIS upset?”

“Oh come on…have a heart. He’s just lost a best friend…”

Best friend. I shake my head. No. I loved him. More than I loved anything else in the world. His brilliant blue eyes, soft jet black hair, pale smooth skin, flawless and milky. His laugh, his smile, even his voice. I missed it all and I wanted it back. I wanted him to be here beside me, so I could throw my arms round his neck and tell him how much I loved him. I can’t now.

He’s dead. And he’s not coming back.

“Hey! Where are you going? We have to leave in a few minutes!”

Ignorance.

I go to the bathroom and open cupboard doors in search of a blade. Anything. Found it. I lock the door and sit in the empty bath, rolling up my sleeves.

I trace the scars already on my wrist lightly. An “A”, a “D” and another A. There’s a letter missing.

I scratch the “M” into my skin, completing the name, completing the name of the person I loved so much.

I feel my body grow weaker. Blood forms a depressing pool around me, but I don’t care.

“RH? Are you in there? Open this door!”

The door rattles. I can’t hear it. I can’t hear anything. I can’t feel anything.

A perfect silence.

“I love you”

A perfect embrace.

“I love you too”

A perfect ending.

—-

Not sure about this one. I wasn’t feeling okay last night so I started this. Finished it today.

Had “Without You” by TDG on repeat for the first half of this…then moved onto the ATBAB album by Owl City xD

I spy a photo opportunity! I’m feeling okay now, if you’re still wondering.

Confusing ending is confusing. Nuff said.

Love how I have other projects that need finishing and uploading to YT…but I decide to upload this first xD HUZZAHHH!!! ;D

@Cillman: Continue writing stuff like No Chance. You are AMAZING at it (: I’m not kidding.

PS: Walking On Air – Chapter Two should be up…..tonight…I think….I am going to finish that story! :iconchallengeacceptedplz:
Peace out
XxTheBlackParadexX

Dammit. Dammit!

“She’s dying, I’m telling you! Why can’t you see that?”

“I’m sorry son, you’ll have to trust us.”

No. No, I can’t trust them. She’s dying. I need to help her.

“Get out of the WAY!” I scream at them. I push through and run inside. Desperation washes over me. Where is she? I know she’s here.

I bellow her name. Why is she keeping me waiting? She knows. Of course she knows. So why is she hiding from me?!

The banisters creak as I run up them. The storm outside buries her screams, but I can sense her. I call her name again. “Róisín! Róisín, where are you?”

I spin around, the darkness licking my heels. I hear her again, the cries, the pleas for help. “RÓISÍN, DON’T WORRY! I’M COMING!”

The windows are smashed, and rain pours into the room. My face is damp, and my clothes are soaked, but I keep looking. “I’m coming. I’m coming…” My voice becomes a hoarse whisper, as the realisation sinks in, that she was…

“I’m here!” she cries from the other room. “I’m here, help me!”

I sprint in, knowing what I’ll find. She’s lying on the floor, her beautiful features ruined by the dagger buried in her chest. Her face is pale, her dark hair stained with blood, yet to me, she is the prettiest girl alive.

She forces her face into a smile. “Glad to see you for the last time.”

I bite back a sob. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She coughs, and blood splatters onto my shirt, but I take no notice.

“No,” I whisper,”You can’t go. I… I love you.”

She smiles again. “I love you too.”

And she’s gone. She closes her eyes, and life drains from her body. My hands touch her face, trying to wake her up, but inside I know she is lost. “No. No, no no no no!”

People arrive in the room. Some are crying, some just staring, but none of them feel my pain. None of them loved this girl, loved her as I did. But she is gone, and I’ve nothing left to live for. My life was about her, her smile, the way her hair blew in the wind, and the hours of laughter we had together.

But we never said it. Never wanted to ruin the great friendship we had, even though we knew how the other felt. Now the chance is gone, I will never be able to do all the things I wished we could do together. I have no chance. I have no chance….

I know what I must do. I seize the dagger from her chest, and pull it gently up. The blade is completely bloodstained. Perfect. I raise the knife, a smile playing on my lips because, finally, I spend every minute, every day, my whole life with her.

And so I close my eyes, picture Róisín’s smiling face, and bring the dagger down.

**Wow. That was harder then I thought. I raise my glass to xTDGx for doing this so much. This is not because I have a crush on someone in real life, (though I do) I just figured, seeing as I haven’t posted in AGES, (besides jokes) I should write a short story. About love. And people dying. (The second most important part of a love story.) I hope you like it, if you do, please leave a comment and I might write another. As long as someone dies. **

Humans are the most advanced creature ever created. We can walk, run, crawl, dig, swim, communicate, read, write, jump, teach, learn, and do anything. We have a super complex mind and we get to have thoughts. We are always overtaken by our curiosity to explore and discover new things each day. Humans have evolved and updated though time and have invented the most impossible things. How did we go from trees to houses? Lava to glass? Fossils to gasoline? And most importantly electricity from wind, water, heat, and oil? Every time you think that you aren’t able to make some type of difference to society, try to think about how inventors and other vital people have changed daily life. Even if you can’t exactly make a BIG difference to today’s world, use your imaimagination and think something up: inspire someone. Your not unimportant to this world. No, you’re the best contribution to society ever! And remember this: ever time you feel blue or maybe just cross, try it again, explore for different was of doing it, or you might just have to try something else. Sometimes you are forced to give up and dont go out and set a goal for the impossible like I did, instead hunt for something that matches your ability((ies)<– so cool have multiple), reach out for it, and you wont regret it.

On Friday, I had printed out some of new poetry to show my friends at lunch. After lunch, I was sitting in my seat in class, when the kid who sits in front of me walks in with his friend. Both of them like to tease me. You know, in a friendly manner. One of them sees the papers with the poetry on my desk. “Hey, what is that? Did we get our tests back?” he asks. (We had had a test the day before) “No,” I replied, “it’s my poetry.” Him and his friend requested to read one. I passed each of them one of my poems. The one who sits in front of me read my poem “Gossip” and asked, “Is this true?” and then turned to his friend and demanded that he read it because it’s awesome. “Danielle (That’s me!), these are amazing. You’re an awesome poet,” the kid who sits in front of me said. I simply smiled and said thanks.  Later, he said, “I’m not going to annoy you anymore today because you’re such an awesome poet.” The way my poetry made them respect me makes me think.

“The Countess wishes to see you, Mademoiselle.” The maid said softly in passing through the doorway. Cornelia looked up with a slight sigh. The Countess doubtless wanted to take her calling, meaning hours of visiting her blank-faced, dull friends.

“Louise?” she called, standing up from the breakfast table. The maid hurried back in, clasping her hands nervously.

“Yes Mademoiselle?”

“Tell the Countess I have a terrible head-ache, and that I am up in my chambers.”

The maid bowed out, and Cornelia hastily climbed the staircase to her rooms. She flung the door closed and threw the top layer of her skirts off, slipping under the heavy blankets and fixing a look of distress upon her face.

Within seconds, the Countess de Lorellette quietly opened the door, drifting in and sitting down in the arm-chair beside Cornelia’s bed.

“I received an invitation from the Baroness of Avingham. She kindly included an invitation for you.” The Countess said softly, smiling down at her daughter. “Many notable people will be there. I heard Lord Kenway would be among them.”

“Mother, I think my head may be feeling a little better.” Cornelia muttered, laying the back of her hand upon her forehead.

“No, you should stay in bed; we ought not risk your health. I’ll ask Louise to bring up some tea and lemon.”  The Countess said kindly, standing.

Cornelia pushed herself up from bed, throwing the covers to the ground and standing. “No, I’m truly fine.” She cried, smoothing down her skirt.

The Countess turned to give Cornelia a last laughing glance “I suppose wonders never cease. Well, quickly now, we must leave soon.”

Soon came quite quickly, and in less than ten minutes a carriage stood in front of the house.

“Have you seen Lucian today? I woke up quite early and he wasn’t in the house.” Cornelia said, tugging at the lace trimming of the curtains. Her mother pulled her hand down before answering. “A ship from America had come into port last night; Lucian had gone to see it. You know his interest with all that American foolishness.”

The ride was populated with idle talk such as that, until they arrived at what the Baron and Baroness affectionately called the Avingham Estate, although it could hardly be considered that. It was a rather small house, just barely large enough to warrant the title of Estate, sitting on an acre of weed-plagued land. The only reason their home saw its steady stream of visitors would be attributed to the Avinghams’ cook, whose food inspired much gossip, both positive and negative.

As soon as they stepped from the carriage, a servant lead them to the house and through into the salon, where a considerable amount of people already waited.

“The Countess and Viscountess de Lorellette.” The footman announced stiffly, stepping out of their way.

The Countess was greeted with pleasant looks, which cooled as they passed to her daughter, whose eyes were eagerly searching the room for its only point of interest. He mother cast a weary glance at her daughter, and attempted to subtly draw her attentions to more appropriate things, but despite the Countess’ best efforts Cornelia drifted away.

She stopped at a large arm-chair, partially hidden in the shadows from which a sullen young man watched the congregation with a distraught, amused gaze. As soon as she approached, he stood, his eyes lighting up. “Mademoiselle de Lorellette,” He said with a deep bow. “I thought you made it a point to avoid social events such as this.” He said laughingly.

“I think you have no right to speak like so, seeing as how you were lounging about as if this was your home.” She said coldly, slipping her arm through his. “In that case you may wish to be quiet yourself, seeing how you stride about as if this gracious home is yours.”

“Why, how you dare speak to me! If I hadn’t known better I’d say you are trying to insult me.”

He laughed, pulling her further into the corner so as to escape the companies’ traveling gazes. “Come, a blackguard to a blackguard, you know what I say is true, we simply weren’t styled for these pointless endeavors.”

“It is all quite dull.”

“Tedious even?”

“Yes, tedious.” She sighed, leaning against the wall.

“We are in agreement then. Say, I have a better idea. I doubt many of these guests will miss our company, so they would hardly mind if we excused ourselves.” Lord Kenway suggested, glancing over his shoulder at the stately occupants of the salon.

“And I know exactly how our excuse shall be made.” Cornelia whispered, her eyes alight with the new idea. “Would you mind escorting me to my home, or at least out of this place?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Then pray come into the light, otherwise all my efforts will be wasted.”

Lord Kenway led her to the edge of the room, were they stood for a moment, she occasionally whispering a word or two to him, to which he responded with a nod and smile.

The Countess occasionally cast deft, uneasy glances at Lord Kenway and Caroline. A lady standing beside her noticed this, curiously gazing at the couple.

“It seems like Lord Kenway is courting your daughter, Countess.” She said, looking at Cornelia’s mother “If it were me, I would keep my daughter with more pleasant company.”

The Countess shook her head with a sigh “I have no worries, my dear Cornelia has no interest in romance.”

The gathering began to grow tense, the Hostess had not yet made an appearance, and everyone was beginning to get restless. Cornelia frowned, putting a hand to her head. Lord Kenway softly asked what was wrong, and she began a meek reply, before falling in a faint into his arms.

A couple ladies gave cries of alarm, clinging to their men, and the Countess stepped forward her face veiled with worry.

“Ah, she told me she was feeling ill this morning, I should’ve listened.” She said softly, drawing close to Lord Kenway.

One of the ladies brought a vial of smelling salts, with which they revived Caroline to consciousness. She stood weakly, practically hanging on Lord Kenway’s arm.

“Cornelia are you alright?” Asked the Countess, ignoring the gazes of the people behind them.

Cornelia nodded meekly, saying nothing.

“I fancy it was this dreadful heat. Mademoiselle, you are in no condition to stay here, and I would be much obliged to escort you home, assuming of course that your mother allows it.” Lord Kenway said his face the epitome of worry and compassion.

The Countess nodded, stepping out of his way.

Lord Kenway led her from the house, hailing a coach, and helped Cornelia in, getting in after her. As soon as the door was closed Cornelia straightened up, a light laugh lighting up her face.

“You were brilliant Mademoiselle.” Lord Kenway said, smiling warmly.

“As were you. So, were shall we go?”

“The coachman knows, and you will soon.” He said, amusement gleaming in his eyes, as if he were turning over some private joke within his mind.

___

I haven’t really been in a writing mood lately, but after making Cornelia, I spent all of last night envisioning her life… so I simply had to write this. But it just seems kinda bland, not really my best writing…Ah well, anywho, this is a sign that I’m still alive.

I’m also using Cornelia de Lorellete in the forum, but ignore the stories I do about her on here in the forum thread

In stories about her she will be called de Lorellette (two Ts) and in everything having to do with the forum she will be called de Lorellete (one t)

So, I’m still alive

-Selene (WalkingOnCorpses)

…With Her Little Creepy Face

*I thought of a really cool idea for this story xDDD Sooo…I am starting it again xDD*

“Oh God! Guys, here she comes!” Leila calls out. I duck my head and try to shuffle past.

TRIP

I gasp as I feel my body hit the floor. My glass skittered off my face and stopped at the feet of someone. I look up through blurry vision. I can’t see her face, but I know it’s a girl.

“Are these yours?”

“Yes…thank you…” I pick them up, and put them on.

“Um…are you talking to yourself, you weirdo?!” Duke asks, swinging an arm round Leila. Who looks irritated.

“No..I’m talking to that girl who was…” I pointed. Then gasped. She’d vanished.

I never saw her again until later that day. I was sat on a bench eating my lunch, reading a book. When she sat next to me.

She was tall, pale, slim. Jet black shiny hair down to her waist. She wore an MCR shirt, skinny jeans and black converse.

Her bare arms were covered with stripy arm warmers. She had tons of freckles sprinkled across her little snub nose. And she had the prettiest blue eyes ever. They were like windows to her soul.

“I’m Ashe…nice to meet you!” she giggled.

“Uh…! I’m…Gem…” I stammered.

“Great name! Want to be friends?”

“Really…?”

“Oh yeah! I mean, if you want to be…you see, I just….uhm….moved here! And I haven’t any friends” she laughed nervously.

“Oh! Of course…welcome to our school…it’s kind of crummy though…” I blinked behind my glasses.

“Gosh, you are TALKING to yourself again!” Leila squealed, strolling up to me, her gang behind her.

“I’m not…I’m talking to Ashe…” I pointed to Ashe sitting next to me.

Duke, Hannah and Leila and all the other idiots laughed.

“There’s no-one there…Ashe must be her lickle imaginary fwiend!”

Ashe had gone. Again! Where was she?!

They walked off, and I was alone for the rest of the day. I sighed sadly. Just when I thought we really were friends…she’d gone. Leaving me alone.

“Maybe I’m losing my mind…I am just imagining Ashe…because I’m lonely…! Hm, a good night’s sleep will work wonders…” I mused to myself on the way home.

“OI! I am anything but imaginary! You’re not going insane!”

I turned round. Ashe was sat in the tree, a little smirk playing on her face.

“How…how…? Why did you leave me?” I asked her. She linked arms with me. She was surprisingly light, like she wasn’t there at all.

“I didn’t leave you! I just….got a bad feeling from those guys…anyway, this is your house?” she smiled brightly as I stopped outside my home.

“Yeah….well, see you…uhh…tomorrow?”

“Sure..! Bye!”

So much for “see you tomorrow”

Ashe couldn’t wait until tomorrow. So she woke me up. At 3AM. By sitting on my bed.

“ARGH!”

“Ssh! You’ll wake the whole house up!” she giggled, standing up and tiptoeing around my room.

“What are you doing here?!”

“To say hi!” she grinned at me, waggling her long, slender fingers at me.

“You need to go home! I don’t take kindly to people intruding into my house in the middle of the night….”

“You’re sending me away?! Don’t do that!” she suddenly looked really sad. Really sad. A dark drop began to slide from her eye, down her cheek.

Her skin seemed to be glowing, but I assumed it was just the moon, illuminating her pale skin.

The drop splashed onto my white bedsheets, another one began to follow…

“Okay, okay….”

She was gone in the morning. The tear stain was there…but…it was blood red….

“Little creepy house in a little creepy place

Little creepy town in a little creepy place

Little creepy girl with a little creepy face…”

—

You like? Yes? No? Fine… -___-

Hahaha, I have the PERFECT idea for this story….though you might’ve worked it out already…idk *shrugs*

I will get round to drawing Ashe…. :33

Song: Walking On Air ~ Kerli ( I LOVE THAT SONG. And the video. It has a BEAUTIFUL BJD (Balljointed doll) in it :3

I want a BJD. But they’re far too much money. Oh well…I’ll stick to my Pullips (Japanese/Korean fashion doll :3 YES. GET OVER IT. I am 13. I still own dolls xD)

SUB ME ON YT XDD Click my name to go to my channel(:

This what I like to do. Is about me what I like to do. So there are lots of stuff I like to do. And even more stuff I hate to do. Firstly I would like to tell you about myself and why
My likes

I like or…hate.
I like to be in the pool.
I like playing games.
I like to play with my friends.
I like playing the Sims.
I like to go to places that is very fun.

My hates

I hate to fight ( even though I can seriously )
I like it when I play dodge the punches with my brother but not when my brother get out of hand.
I hate when I’m at the beach and I’m swimming and then my brother come and dump my head in the water.
I hate when my friends act so naar( jealous )
I hate when my small brother always get the best stuff and my brother and I don’t get anything until next time

First Start With The Bad Time

When I’m at mother’s house. I don’t get to much attention. My small brother get all. I just stand and watch. That day I don’t feel that well. My big bro I always play with him when we play dodge the punches but when he get out of control. UU! My big brother go fast and he’s hits are hard. ( And I have soft skin that is also why. And another day when I was at the beach I was swimming realy nice and slow at the beach and playing chop the wave. My brother was swimming under me and my brother jumped up and grab me he hold me tight than a big wave came and I nearly drowned. And another day when I’m with my friend his name is Dylan when he know I’m goner bring nice stuff to school the next day the next day he bring nice stuff and I bring nice stuff than Dylan come to me and lie and say he do not have food than I give food than he lie and laugh and that is people that is naar ( jealous )

Than The Good Part

When I’m on this phone is the best time ever. I like when I’m on the phone the best time. And the other time when I go to my mother I went to a hotel at the hotel there was a cool place ( we had a *€€€*## jukossi ) and we have a flat screen T.V and in every room we had a flat screen T.V and a D.S.T.V and we had a pool at the top of the hotel.

And wile we were at the hotel we went to the board walk and went to the game center and before we went we had supper at milky lane and I’d had a waffle pizza and a banana smashed smoothy and the other day we went to play land and had lot’s of fun.

That is the time when I had the best time and the worst.

The stars are amazing, and do you know why?!
They help you light your way if you are roaming in the night. The stars are amazing!

For a moment I think I’m safe. The car hasn’t hit me. It’s braked. It’s…

Pain suddenly explodes throughout my body and I fall to the floor, writhing in agony. I don’t hear the ambulance. I don’t hear Nella, the little child I rescued, call to me either.

All I can hear is the laughter and chatter of a crowd.

Hear the steady beat of a marching band.

That summer re-played in front of my eyes. Rayn is 10. I am 9. I am moving to Glencoe soon, so as his little way of saying goodbye, Rayn takes me to see the parade in town.

He pushes me forward to the front, and I gaze in awe at the marching band, wearing their crimson red finery, marching through the streets, beating their drums, playing trumpets, crashing cymbals together, the noise echoing throughout the streets.

Flags are flying high, confetti is being thrown and I’ve got this huge smile on my face.

“You like it?!” Rayn calls to me over the deafening noise of the band and the crowd. People are dancing alongside the floats now, their costumes are extravagant and beautiful, fans and ribbons soaring in the air.

Rayn is the happiest I have ever seen him, blue eyes sparkling with excitement and he’s got this huge grin on his face.

“I love it!” I reply, and I never meant anything so much in my life.

“And though you’re dead and gone, believe me,

Your memory will carry on, we’ll carry on…!”

The band is singing now, voices strong, full of hope and life.

We sing too. We all do.

The day ends too quickly. The parade has gone, the sun is setting. Rayn and I sat on a bridge overlooking a river, legs swinging.

“Did you like today?”

I nod. There are tears in my eyes.

“Detroit? Are you crying? Are you not happy?” Rayn asks. I turn to face him and I give him this huge smile.

“I am happy. You’ve made me the happiest girl alive, Rayn…” I say, kneeling up and hugging him. He is a little shocked, but he hugs me back.

He sees me off at the station the next morning.

“You will come back next year, right? And we’ll go to many more parades?” he asks.

I nod, then step onto the train.

I hang half of my body out of the window, waving wildly, gripping the frame for support. He waves…and then he’s out of sight.

I never did return the year after. Or the years after that. I spend the next 16 years in Glencoe. Because so many things keep coming up that I never get the time to go home.

Age 16, I joined a marching band. I felt a surge of pride, to be stood on the float, strumming a guitar and singing, voice bursting out over the streets. People are smiling, laughing. Every year, no-one is unhappy. Nobody at all.

It reminds me of the parade. The summer parade Rayn took me to.

I returned when Rayn fell sick.

He had a little sister. 11 years old. Nella. She mailed me from the band website, telling me who she was, why she wanted me to come back. Rayn had been asking to see me.

“Your memory will carry on, we’ll carry on…”

A few days before he died, he stood at his hospital window and watching the marching band go past. They still sing that song. He whispers along to it, palms rested on the window.

He died of cancer a few days later.

I am singing that song now. Lying here, on the road, feeling my limbs go numb, my body giving up the struggle to stay alive.

“And when you’re dead and gone believe me…

Your memory will carry on…”

My hands are gripped. The pain has gone. I am staring into bright blue eyes, sparkling with excitement. A band is marching, beating their drums. Rayn pulls me upwards. And I am happy.

—-

I had “Welcome To The Black Parade” on repeat ALL DAY XD Even when doing my homework at lunchtime xD While Kate and Teigan whipped each other with an sweaty gym shirt they’d found in the lockers :s They’re weirdos XD
So anyway…blasting music into your ears at MAXIMUM volume every hour of the day is not recommended…I haz earache now. Not telling Mum….guess what her remedy for earache is…? Olive oil. In your ear. Yes. Really… -____-

 ANDDDDD NinJa was screaming at me to write this….seriously.

And anyways…my mind came up with this. It was originally an end to a story I was writing but it works well as a stand-alone too(:

So…yeah, Detroit plays one too many roles in many of my stories xD

I LOVE parades and festivals. Especially music festivals. I’d LOVE to go to Glastonbury one day….but its pretty muddy xD

WHOOP! Last day of school tomorrow then I’ve got two weeks off ^___^ But….I have a science test. Last lesson. Seriously, great way to start the holiday/ end the school term. With a test. Ah well *shrugs*

Sayonara!

XxTheBlackParadexX

I was 17 when I learnt to drive a car. I felt scared but it didn`t stop me. Now, I’m a racing car driver and I have won many races.

In 2012, we are having the biggest car race ever. It will take 9 weeks to prepare for the event. The actual race itself, will take one week to complete.

But there is something very special about my story. My head used to belong to my best friend. I had to get her head because my head was badly injured in a car race, and could not be mended.

The car started. The cars took off. It was 5000 miles away until we reached the end. I was ahead of all the others, but then a really big bully kicked me off the track. I landed in the mud. There was no one there to help me, so I pushed myself out of the mud.

Finally I made it of the mud. I started my car, and raced ahead of all the others – even the big bully.

I passed the line before all the others. I won the world cup, and will be world champion for many years now.

All thanks to the head of my best friend.

“Turn away, if you could get me a drink of water

‘Cause my lips are chapped and faded…

Call my Aunt Marie; help her gather all my things

And bury me in all my favourite colours

My sisters and my brothers, still, I will not kiss you

‘Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you…”

It hurt to see him like this. His body had long since given up the fight to keep going. Tanned skin had bleached a sickly white, blue eyes were far too big in his face, lips paled and chapped. He was still my brother. Hair or no hair. Cancer or no cancer.

“Could…you get me a drink?” a voice alerted me to the fact he was awake now. I forced a smile and nodded, picking up the glass from his bedside table and walking out of the door.

I leant against the water dispenser, clutching his glass in my hand, forcing the tears back. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his time to go. He was only 24. He’d battled cancer for two years. Now he was counting down the days to leave Earth.

Being his twin sister, I felt like I was losing a part of me. A part of my identity. If a sibling dies, do you continue saying you are a sister/brother, even if the other half of the equation is missing?

Still. I forced a smile on my face again and walked inside.

“Come here…” he told me weakly. He clutched my hand weakly as I sat beside him.

“Aunt Marie is coming…tomorrow…most likely to gather all my things…I want you to help her…”

He stops suddenly, coughing, choking, spluttering. For a minute I am terrified he won’t stop, but eventually it dies down and he continues “But…I want you to do me a favour…the funeral…,”

“Don’t…you won’t die”

I was lying. I knew I was. He was dying before my eyes.

He laughed weakly

“You’re so brave….but….bury me in all my favourite colours…”

“Black and blue…” I reply almost immediately. Those are my favourite colours too. We are almost the same. Almost.

He is crying now.

“Are you crying because you’re going to die?”

He shakes his head

I had Cancer by MCR on repeat all the way through writing this. I love that song so much because I lost my Grandad to cancer a few years ago…plus cancer runs in my family so…it’s pretty scary.

I feel like I am ABANDONING Three Days Grace xD But I’m not. I still listen to their songs like a freaking boss…

I don’t really like the way this turned out. I have major writers block. Well, writers block when it comes to writing normal things like this instead of writing AGxRH love Dx Oh well…

I feel like I haven’t posted in a long time. But it’s only been…what, a week? I’ve been more active on Flickr. Click my name to go there. Just don’t think any less of me…

These two can be ANY of my twin characters. Believe it or not, I have more than one pair of twin boy and girl xD Just not the ones you know of :3

Oh well.

Back to school tomorrow. For 4 days. Then I’m officially on my Easter break :3 I should be able to get a story or two up during those two weeks I am off….but I kinda promised my YT subscribers that I’d post more videos….AUGHHHHH DX xD

XxTheBlackParadexX

PS: I’ve noticed some of you DO NOT like my name change… NinJa: NO. WE ALL HATE IT.

Fine xD To make things easier call me Kat…or whatever is comfortable for you…