Geschreven kunst!

Zet hier je geschreven stukken over je dolls.

Of een link.
Hou het netjes en volwassen. Een warning graag bij 13+

Oh, een wonder! Ik schrijf een stukje over Falcon xD

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The Kiosk


‘So, you want to break up?’ Falcon chuckled, hiding behind the sarcastic attitude that got him into this mess in the first place.

‘I’m sorry, Shinjichan,’ Iris said, nervously petting her ash brown hair, ‘but I just like, don’t see a future with you. With us.’

‘I understand. Fine. Have a happy life.’

‘See?’ Iris replied almost panicked. ‘You just take it and leave it! Cleary you don’t care enough about ‘us’ to fight for this relationship!’

‘For the love of all kami, Iris, do you want to break up or not?’ Falcon sighed, turning his sea green-topped head to the window. It was a perfect day; not too hot, not too cold, with a clear blue sky calling out to Falcon’s aviation-instincts. There we so many more interesting things to do than spending time with a girl who was incapable of living for the day. Not only did Falcon hate talking about the future, he didn’t want to be claimed as well. By anyone.

Iris sighed and sipped her lemon soda. ‘You’re hopeless…’

And you’re stuck to your narrow-minded ideas of a perfect life and a perfect relationship, Falcon thought, but only a grunt escaped from his lips. Minutes passed, and they only spoke to the waitress to decline a refill. Finally, Iris decided this was all she could take and left.

Dear kami, why do women talk so much, but always hold their piece in these situations? Falcon prayed and played with the spoon in his coffee cup. This was to be expected. Every relationship he had been in so far ended in a ‘we don’t have a future’ or a ‘this will never work’. According to his exes, he was a useless piece of ass who didn’t give a shit about a women’s feelings.

That was true, in a way. It was hard to care about a women’s problems if they called him on the crack of dawn about some friend named Melissa who just broke up with her fiancé. Maybe it was arrogant, but if the problem didn’t involve blood, broken bones or loss of limbs, Falcon wrote it off as unimportant and irrelevant.

Iris was the first girl to value that; she was very understanding about Falcon’s past in the Southern war. For instance, she would not rent war movies, and carefully put away her morning paper the moment Falcon realized he could not take advantage of her comfortable queen-sized bed anymore. He would stumble into the living room, and she would fold the newspaper into a heart, or a boat, or a panda, whatever she felt like that day.

But she left, and took all those black-and-white origami figures with her, just as the expensive necklace Falcon bought her last week to prove he did care.

Why couldn’t she understand he could not allow himself to plan upfront for more than a week?

He called the waitress, paid for their drinks and left. The weather was truly amazing, and the deep blue sky was only intersected by dozens of MagJets passing through the sky. Even though the sound reminded him of war, it comforted him as well, bringing up memories of flying and breaking free. Why was it so hard to understand he wanted to keep his options open? It had never been his intention to stay here in Osakku, North-Sungoh, or to start a family. He knew how his parents ended up: dead. He knew how he himself ended up: orphaned, with an intense hate, a desire for revenge. Iris would never be able to understand why he wanted to go back, because that was what he was going to do, maybe in a month, in a week, in a day…

He left a sister behind.

Falcon stopped at a kiosk and stared at the newspapers. Their headlines all screamed at him: ‘war, death, rebels eliminated, death rate gone up, victory for the North, triumph for the North!’

‘Damn you Northerns!’ he cursed, and was frowned upon by two trespassers. The older lady inside the kiosk smiled at him, and said: ‘having a rough time?’

‘My girlfriend broke up with me.’

‘Poor lad. Come sit with me for a while, and have some hot chocolate,’ she kindly said and handed him a plastic mug filled with a dark, hot fluid. Falcon entered the small kiosk booth and sat down next to the lady, and soon found himself sipping the tasty chocolate and staring at the different people walking by.

‘You’re a Southern, aren’t you?’ the lady giggled.

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘You fought on the rebel’s side; you’re Kuro-han. The will to defend your people is in your blood.’

Falcon nodded. ‘And all you needed was three sentences to figure that out?’

The old lady pointed at the crowds of people passing by. ‘I see a lot of different persons every day. Most of them don’t even take the time to talk to me, so I started paying attention to the way they walked. See that man? He is insecure about himself; you can tell by the position of his shoulders and the steady, soft pace he has. He does not want to be noticed.’

‘And what does that have to do with me?’

‘Your stroll is confident. You stand out,’ she said, ‘you want to be noticed; you want for people to recognize your existence. That as well is in the heart of a true Kuro. And hear me, out: you should pursue your dreams, lad,’ the lady grinned, ‘or you’ll end up in a kiosk.’

Falcon grinned. ‘Or dead.’

‘At least you had something to fight for.’

He thanked the lady for the her time and left the booth. This time, he looked at the sky with completely different eyes. It might be taking a week, a month, or a year, but he was going to go back home. And save it. For his sister.

---

Suggesties/opmerkingen zijn altijd welkom, net als verwijzingen naar spel- of typfouten

Ik ben altijd een groot fan van verhalen, waarin weinig lijkt te gebeuren, maar toch een moment van belang is. Net als dit: Men kan zeggen, Falcon is gedumpt en gaat verder met zijn leven.
Of, nadat Falcon gedumpt is leert hij eenbelangrijke les.

Ik hou van je schrijfstijl. Je wijdt niet teveel uit, maar beschrijft dingen wel. De sfeer na de 'break up' word goed beschreven. Ik zou alleen de geschiedenis van Iris wat eerder doen. Nu breekt het de sfeer, terwijl deze juist wel wat awkward mag zijn, maar door dat stukje komt dat niet zo goed uit.

Toch maar even een lj gemaakt waar ik voorlopig mijn verhalen kan posten.

werktitel: dagboek van een priester
Waarschuwing er komt bloed en geweld in voor maar in lichte mate.
hoofdstuk 1
hoofdstuk 2
hoofdstuk 3
hoofdstuk 4
hoofdstuk 5
hoofdstuk 6

Omdat ik even vastzat met Valentijns verhaal ben ik aan het verhaal van Demon en Ardat begonnen.

Demon's terugkeer
hoofdstuk 2
hoofdstuk 3 is afgedekt voor minderjarige lezers.
hoofdstuk 4
hoofdstuk 5
Waarschuwing hier kunnen suggesties richting geweld bevatten
hoofdstuk 6

Ondanks dat ik nog verder moet gaan met heb ik twee andere verhalen vandaag een kort verhaaltje als introductie van een nieuw personage.

http://bloedwaardig.livejournal.com/3807.html

ik ben alles nu op da gaan zitten en er zijn weer een paar nieuwe gepost.

dagboek van een priester hoofdstuk 7

een bijzondere kerst ooit eens begonnen na een melig msn gesprek met amaris en daarna vergeten. geen idee of ik hem ooit ga afmaken. al overweeg ik het wel. moest wel lachen toen ik het kleine stukje herlas.

wedergeboorte klein verhaal met mijn bloedwaardig dolls dat in me hoofd hing. niet genoeg details maar ben het van plan ooit verder uit te werken maar had het vast online gezet.

twee dagen na haar verjaardag heeft Lupinella eindelijk haar ontstaan verhaaltje gekregen.
an Lucinda naar Lupinella

Gezien ze bijna thuis is werd het tijd om na te denken over wie ze is. Dus hier een karakterschets dat een kort verhaal is geworden genaamd [url=dood en geboorte]http://vampierdraakje.deviantart.com/art/dood-en-geboorte-182488745[/url]