Le Random Writings of Joy

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Joy
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Joined: May 2012

Le Random Writings of Joy

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I do not profess to be a great writer, however, I do try sometimes. I decided to post a few of my mediocre writings and see what you guys think. I would love some feedback, helpful criticism, etc. I will be posting a host of many different kinds of random writings that might not always make sense, so bear with me please. :)

So I'm going to start off by posting a poem about a wolf that I wrote a couple months back that I'm proud of. It was, originally, for school, but I just really like how it turned out.
A dark silhouette moves cautiously through the fading night
His claws whispering against harsh stone
Pale luminescent eyes glowing
As if made from moonbeams fallen from the heavens
He stops for a moment
Head lifted ever so slightly
As if admiring the inky night sky with a heavy heart
Before sojourning on
His head hung
As if carrying the burdens of the world in his weighted paws
A soft breeze slips through his fur
Ruffling it gently
He’s a warrior
Tired of fighting
With deep crimson lines crisscrossing his elegant face
He leans back and tilts his head to face the shining moon
A mournful song ripples through the air
Its long notes echoing across the valley
As brightening hues seep into the changing sky
The peaceful warrior is laid to rest
And the moonbeams in his eyes drift back to the heavens
The poem has no name (I suck at naming stuff) so if you guys could suggest a name, that'd be cool. I'm open to any criticism as long as it is constructive. Please comment on here and tell me how you liked it.
Enjoy!
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Joy
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Posts: 615
Joined: May 2012

Re: Le Random Writings of Joy

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Okay, so this a really long story (maybe not story, more like a chapter, if I keep on writing it) that I wrote recently. The idea just...came to me, I guess, though it's not very original.
And if you think I'm writing this with my brain, I'm not. I'm drawing from my own experiences and emotions here. The situation in this story is 10 times whatever experiences I've had, but still, I can put my own feelings and experiences into this.
It's not perfect, I wrote it straight out, and I feel like, so far, there is way too much just her thinking and too little dialogue. I'd like to hear your opinions, though.

Chapter 1
I kick the gravel and stare at the ground as I walk toward my house. I take one step, then another, and another. Now I’m standing in front of the porch, and my mind starts to think at an unnatural pace..

I’m going to be in so much trouble, and I know it. Oh, I know it too well. Deep breath, deep breath. I can do this, I can do this. No fear. Don’t be a coward, Liz, you can’t run away. Maybe I can... I mean, I’ve thought about it before. It could be possible. But all my clothes are in the house, darn it. He might not be home. Oh yeah, he’s home, car’s in the driveway. Maybe he’s sleeping...No, he’s not, of course he’s not, he never goes to bed this early. You’re being stupid, Liz. It’s not that bad, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You have to face the music. Face the music of a symphony playing the death march. Just don’t think about it. You’re gonna stand out here all night if you think about it too much. I’m pacing now. And even with my favourite black hoodie on, I’m still cold. Just get it over with.

And with that, I’m up the porch steps and through the door. As soon as I’m in the house, I switch over to my stealth mode. Carefully slide my Converse shoes off my feet and place them on the shoe rack. Pull down my hoodie’s hood low over my face(hoodie’s hood, that sounds so weird in my head). Slip carefully through the front hall, through the living room. Don’t look to the right or the left, just straight ahead. I’m part way up the stairs before I hear him. “Elizabeth! Get back here.” Through the tone of his voice, I know my fears are confirmed.

I slowly walk back down the stairs, and turn toward the coach. I see my dad sitting there, quietly (for now). Arms folded, face grim. “Dad, hey.” I say breezily, though my voice is shaking. “Elizabeth, take off your hood, I can’t see your face with that darned thing pulled down so low.” His voice is rising, and I know he’s on the edge. I casually tug off my hood, and glance at the floor. “Elizabeth. What did you do?” I hate the way he always repeats my full name when he’s getting angry. It annoys the heck out of me. I wanna say something defiant or clever like “Dad, isn’t it obvious? I dyed my hair black, genius. You like?” But instead all I do is mumble “Sorry.” without looking at him.

And it begins. He yells at me, loudly, of course, the level of his voice escalating each time. Why did you do a stupid thing like dye your hair. It’s pointless. Why did you ignore my calls and texts, and stay out late after school without telling me. Why this, why that. You’re horrible, you’re a pig, you’re stupid, and some words I’d rather not repeat. With each sentence he steps closer, and each expression gets more enraged by the second. By now he’s punctuating each bellow with a slap, or a punch. They aren’t that hard, but it’s still scary. Soon my dad starts winding down and eventually, he just points upstairs and says quietly “Get to your room, Elizabeth. You’re an idiot for doing this kind of stuff, Elizabeth, you know you’re gonna end up in real trouble some day.”

I stand there for a few seconds, feeling absolutely defeated. And then I just sigh, and walk upstairs, still trembling from the barrage of insults and slaps. I find my bed, and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I deserved it, I dunno. My mom’s going to be upset too, but not in the way that he is. That he always is. I mean, maybe this time I had it coming.

But most of the time, he’s way worse, for much less of an offense. And sometimes, he goes ballistic over some nonexistent problem, like me not straightening the towel properly on the rack, or not pushing in a chair. Why me? Why do I have to deal with this all the time? The constant fear, always tiptoeing around him, always adhering to his every little want and need. Other people are surprised at how polite I can be, how careful I am that I don’t make anyone mad. That’s all thanks to my wonderful daddy. I feel so hopeless, so bitter. with a good right to be. Oh, I’m so tired. I fall back against my pillow, and try my best not to cry. And that’s another thing. He always yells at us when we cry. It’s basically reflex, trying not to cry. Ugh, I’m so tired of thinking about it. Maybe I should just fall asleep and forget about it. Until tomorrow at least. I don’t bother turning the lights off, or climbing into my pajamas, just nestle into my comforter and try and get some sleep.
So what do you think, horrible, mediocre, maybe a little good?

More to come!
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TigerShadow
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Re: Le Random Writings of Joy

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Ooh, I really like this! There's a lot of emotion and perspective here, and I really enjoy that. You might want to try breaking up the paragraphs, though, like the second one. For example:
Joy wrote:I’m going to be in so much trouble, and I know it. Oh, I know it too well. Deep breath, deep breath. I can do this, I can do this. No fear. Don’t be a coward, Liz, you can’t run away.

Maybe I can... I mean, I’ve thought about it before. It could be possible. But all my clothes are in the house, darn it. He might not be home. Oh yeah, he’s home, car’s in the driveway. Maybe he’s sleeping...No, he’s not, of course he’s not, he never goes to bed this early.

You’re being stupid, Liz. It’s not that bad, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You have to face the music. Face the music of a symphony playing the death march. Just don’t think about it. You’re gonna stand out here all night if you think about it too much.

I’m pacing now. And even with my favourite black hoodie on, I’m still cold. Just get it over with.
It spaces out the thoughts a little more and gives more dramatic emphasis, I think. But you're doing a really lovely job! I can't wait to see an update.

Quick question: Is this Liz Horton, or your own character? It won't change my perception of the story or anything; I'm just curious.
it's not about 'deserve'. it's about what you believe. and i believe in love
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Joy
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Posts: 615
Joined: May 2012

Re: Le Random Writings of Joy

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TigerShadow wrote:Ooh, I really like this! There's a lot of emotion and perspective here, and I really enjoy that. You might want to try breaking up the paragraphs, though,

It spaces out the thoughts a little more and gives more dramatic emphasis, I think. But you're doing a really lovely job! I can't wait to see an update.

Quick question: Is this Liz Horton, or your own character? It won't change my perception of the story or anything; I'm just curious.
Yeah, I kinda thought the paragraphs looked long, but paragraphing is definitely a weak point for me. (Or I'm just lazy ;) )

I'll try to get an update soon, however I'm not very motivated. :P

No, it's not Liz Horton, it's an original character. :)

Side Note: I was shopping today, and I saw a black hoodie exactly like I envisioned for Liz, so, of course, I bought it.
Mickey
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Re: Le Random Writings of Joy

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Wow, full of emotion. Very good :D
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