shakespeare hates your emo poems

The first post.

friends only
(Why yes, that is my FO banner.
I'm just too lazy to make/find one. XD)

My regular journal (mostly public) is xenoamorist.
My fanfiction and art journal (public) is bittersweet_ink.
My NaNo '06 journal (also friends only) is i_venti.
My NaNo '07 journal (also also friends only) is deux_x_machina.
My add_a_writer "profile" can be found here, if you'd like to know a little more about me.

This is my journal for original fiction only.

Please comment here with a small note about where you found me, and I'll add you ASAP. :)

EDIT;; 06082007: I've decided that only my bigger projects and my more ambitious short stories (read: stuff that I might want to get published) will be f-locked. Drabbles and other things I write that are either casual or serve mainly to get my creative juices flowing will remain public. :D
i see you


708 words.

The opening lines are from my friend's AIM profile. They held a certain sort of ring to them, and I really liked the mood they conveyed, so they just inspired me to sit and write this. This took a different direction that what I sort of had in mind, but I like the way it came out. I'll probably expand it later, seeing how I was a bit tired for the last few paragraphs...

It was just midnight when I realized that everything had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

The door wouldn't fit. I don't know why it bothered me so much, but it wouldn't click. I would push the door into its frame, biting my lip as I waited for it to click reassuringly, to tell me that everything was all right, and that I was safe in this room. But the door would bump up against the frame—almost go in—and then squeak back open, revealing the empty hall behind it. Collapse )
flying in the sky

Brief character "sketch" for October

301 words. I should really stop lighting scented candles all over the place; I keep staring at them and can't concentrate on anything. XD

This was written to kind of explore my murky ideas for one of my characters in an upcoming (and untitled -_-) project.

"Fire," he said, the flame flickering in the palm of his hand. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

As if guided by an unfelt wind, the flame began to flash, jumping up and casting frenzied shadows that flashed like broken lights. His eyes shone, reflecting the orange light, as a slow, empty grin spread itself across his face. He watched, entranced; his fingers began to close around the bud, and she marveled at the way that his fingers remained unburnt, untouched by the glow. Collapse )