So I had a really deep idea for a story, but I couldn't really start it. So instead I kind of started writing it from a plot point halfway through. I would love some feedback!!!
He looked at the dresser, fingering all the small things on top. The bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume, the skull and crossbone earrings, and the hairbrush that had “Maddy Starr” etched into the slender wooden handle. Everything about it was so perfect; he began to wonder what this girl was doing here, with him. He’d told himself he’d never find the perfect woman, and there she was; ready to fall right into his arms. This had to be too good to be true.
He walked over the bedside table and found two photos on display. One was a very young version of her with someone that he presumed was her mother. The other was one of her with a boy that looked a bit like her. She looked happier then he had ever seen her. He picked the framed picture up to get a closer look.
“He died a little while ago”. He turned around and realized that she had been watching him from her doorway.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I really didn’t mean to snoop.”
“It’s okay,” she said with her porcelain face in the half light. “You’re curious. A lot of people are. I know I come across as empty.” He noticed a look of pain in her eyes, and realized her past was not something the visited often.
“I really am sorry,” he repeated. She gave him a look to tell him it really was okay.
He looked at the dresser, fingering all the small things on top. The bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume, the skull and crossbone earrings, and the hairbrush that had “Maddy Starr” etched into the slender wooden handle. Everything about it was so perfect; he began to wonder what this girl was doing here, with him. He’d told himself he’d never find the perfect woman, and there she was; ready to fall right into his arms. This had to be too good to be true.
He walked over the bedside table and found two photos on display. One was a very young version of her with someone that he presumed was her mother. The other was one of her with a boy that looked a bit like her. She looked happier then he had ever seen her. He picked the framed picture up to get a closer look.
“He died a little while ago”. He turned around and realized that she had been watching him from her doorway.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I really didn’t mean to snoop.”
“It’s okay,” she said with her porcelain face in the half light. “You’re curious. A lot of people are. I know I come across as empty.” He noticed a look of pain in her eyes, and realized her past was not something the visited often.
“I really am sorry,” he repeated. She gave him a look to tell him it really was okay.
This is a peom I wrote for a competition at my school. Tell me what you think of it, please?
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Have you felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until you burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! You will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.
__________________________________________________
Have you felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until you burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! You will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.