Newspaper (or book, magazine, etc)

Newspaper (or book, magazine, etc)

Postby Marlo » April 4th, 2015, 4:24 pm

Find the nearest newspaper, book, magazine, CD's or any other form of writing and literature -- or something that has words on it, even. (Hell, if you're feeling extra frisky, pick up a car manual or something!) Pick a title, maybe the title of the book or the front page headline, a chapter title -- whatever you want -- and write a scene based off of that title. (For an extra challenge, try to keep it under 1000 words!)

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Last edited by Marlo on April 6th, 2015, 3:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Newspaper (or book, magazine, etc)

Postby Leah » April 5th, 2015, 1:56 am

Dreams of Gods & Monsters


You are looking at me. I can feel your eyes burning two holes in the back of my skull. When I turn around, you do not look away. You keep staring. It’s as if you know. The corner of your mouth picks up into a smirk, and that’s how I know you know. I am on feet, and I’m walking towards you. But you do not move. You continue to stare, and smirk. Your whole existence is mocking me.

When I am close enough, you say, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

But I already know this.

I can smell you, a smell I recognize so well. It smells of wildness, of the forest. It smells as marvelous as coming home after a long trip. But that’s exactly what this is. As your arms go around me, I am home. Finally.

Your smirk broadens, because you know what you do to me. You make me weak in the knees, and you make my skin ache--longing to be touched by your fingers. I am burning inside, and so are you. Our passion is inextinguishable.

The blue of your eyes is so intense, I wish I could look away, but I can’t. I am afraid you will disappear if I do. You pull me down into your lap, and run your hands up my back. It is as if nothing has changed. Except that it has. You are examining me, but I am the same as I ever was.

“Is this a dream,” I ask, and when you look at me again, your grin is back.

“Do you often dream of gods and monsters?” you ask, and it makes me grin too. For a moment, it is just you and me. And I relish it. It is wrong. But I don’t care.

Quickly, the moment is over, and I frown.

“So this is a dream then…” It’s not a question.

Your cocky grin softens, and gives way to a rueful smile. And my heart breaks, because I know exactly what words are going to pass your lips. You know I know, but you say them aloud anyway.

“Yes,” you say.

You don’t say you’re sorry. You don’t need to. She’ll never know you like I do. I know that you’re thinking you fucked up. I know that you think it’s wrong. It’s wrong that it ever happened. But it would be wrong to stop it now.

You put your hand to my cheek, and it’s warm on my skin. Your thumb traces over the peek of my cheekbone, and I close my eyes. I can feel your breath on my face, as you guide my lips to yours. It’s all I want. To taste your kiss again.

That is when I wake up. My eyes open to the sight of the ceiling-- but it is blurred. I realize I have been crying. I sit up, and use the palm of my hand to dry my face. I miss you, terribly. But you are not here. My cries have woken him up. He puts his arm around my shoulder, comforting me. He knows too, but he loves me still. It is why I do not deserve him.

“What’s wrong,” he asks me; but he knows.

“Nightmares of gods and monsters,” I whisper.

But he knows. And I know that he knows.
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