Below the Stars. (need help)

[Waste]

Yes I've been starting a lot of pieces recently, i've been having some difficulty and I need opinions from people who aren't my friends and likely to lie to me. This is the first little section, like a prologue. The rest of the story tells of how the two get to this point. I just want to know if it all sounds too... simple. Like the wording. Do you read it and think... boring, not enough to hold attention. Etc. Scrutinize it please. If you like it tell me why, if you dont tell me why. If you open this thread but don't read it tell me why. Thanks.

Below The Stars.

In life we all have an unspeakable secret,
an irreversible regret,
an unreachable dream
and an unforgettable love.
~Diego Marchi

There were millions of them, too many to even think about counting. From my point of view they seemed so small and close together, but of course they were anything but; and even though they were alone they still shone brightly. As if they had something to be happy about, even though science was slowly taking away their magic; they were still able to smile. The desolate spaces between my stars made the night feel cold, colder than it already was. It gave me a sense of foreboding to stare at the spaces between, the emptiness.

At that moment they were my stars in my sky. How could anything or anybody else exist when the only things I could see were winking so brilliantly? I was lost amongst them, the biting cold made me shiver but I ignored it and tightened my hold on the boy in my arms, my hand brushing through his hair as he moved a little closer to me. It was just us, and them. I wasn’t alone but something inside made me feel colder than the light breeze could, a feeling, the feeling that they were alone. It just seemed so easy to be far apart. I looked down at him, catching him looking at me, he smiled. Yes, we knew how easy it was to be so far apart.

“I could sleep here.” He whispered, returning his dark eyes to the velvet of the sky. His cold hand touched mine where I was holding him; he tightened his grip around my hand, making the skin burn. It still amazed me, how he could do that.

“Out here?” I laughed a little, and then bit it back, not wanting to break the silence with such a high note. “Without heat, or food, or…” I continued quietly, almost mumbling the words.

“Do those things even matter?” he asked, tilting his head back slightly so that it was resting on my shoulder, his breath tickled my neck and I followed his gaze to the cluster of stars that were directly above us, smiling for us. I felt alone but with him at the same time, I wanted to reach up and pick a star from the sky and keep it forever so that it wasn’t alone.

“If we were any where else but here they would.” I conceded.

“But we are here.”

“And in the morning it will all matter again.” I sighed, shifting my weight as I laid back, feeling the cold of the grass seep through my clothes, he lay by my side now, one of my arms under his neck and around his shoulders to hold him close, the other across both of our bodies, the hand linked through his. He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. We returned our gazes to the stars as a light streaked across it, a single ball with a tail of silver. A shooting star. “I hope you wished.” I said, a smile tugging at my lips as he nodded, “What for?”

“I wished for this night to never end.” He said quietly, lifting himself up a little to kiss my cheek. I didn’t react, just stayed completely still, as a cloud pulled itself across the sky, taking my stars away. He kissed the corner of my mouth and I let my eyes flick shut, seeing the imprint of the stars on my eyelids as I focused on my breathing instead of the flutters that were moving over my body as he ran his hand down my arm. He kissed the other corner of my mouth and I tried to relax when electricity sparked through me. My eyes opened to find his face above mine, framed by a shag of golden hair, in the sun it shone like a halo but here he looked washed of all colour.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a frown forming on what I thought of as the perfect face. Perfect, perfection was just like the stars. In every way they were what we humans strive to become, my eyes must have glazed over as I peered passed him to focus on the sky because he kissed my cheek again, the warmth of his lips brought me back and I focused my eyes on his. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.

“Let’s just look at the stars.”

“Tell me?” he pressed, dark chocolate eyes pressing into me as his hand cupped my cheek, I leant into his palm and kissed it gently. Then I had to look back at him, but I couldn’t look into his eyes, I looked passed him to find my solace in the stars.

“It’s just that,” I swallowed, “You’re going away tomorrow. I don’t want to think about it because we’re here now but when you…” I trailed off, meaning that when he kissed me I just wanted to never let go, and sadly that thought brought me back to reality. That the next day I’d be alone like the stars were.

“Babe.” He said quietly as he rested his forehead against mine, “Wherever we are we will still look at the same stars, and as long as we can do that we can’t be that far apart” he smiled and took my hands, moving them so that my arms were around his neck, “You’ll never be alone.” He whispered the words against my lips before he kissed me.

[alsharid]

Not bad! I don't enjoy romance stories but it was enjoyable enough to read the entire prologue with deep concentration. At first I didn't know what was going on(The first 2 paragraphs were great awesome), but then I realized what's happening. Personally, I think this is more entertaining than the book I am reading. I did not find it boring, but not very entertaining either. The quote at the beginning was a nice thing to add.

[wi_sam]

Writing and letrature wise, it's pretty shit-less. I think it's well written.
Story wise, I liked how you didn't mention anything about what well happen in the morning. But, if it turned out as a NORMAL love/romance story, I'll probably avoid waste my time on it. So the rest of it MUST be epic to actually grab my attention.

[Zero Ichi]

i definitely liked it, i kinda knew what would happen though, i had two outcomes after reading the first two paragraphs, one was that he was going to be leaving, that the night, though sweet, had a bitterness to it that made it hard to tell if it was a happy moment or one of grief...

the other outcome that made me think since she was so fixated on the stars, was that she was imagining the whole thing, the part in the third paragraph, "It still amazed me, how he could do that" made me think that he had already been gone and that it was a miracle that she could still remember his touch...

what im saying is that its good, if it got me guessing, keep it, and please post the rest of it, if there is more, the other thing that made it good was that it was real, there is always grief in relationships, nothing is perfect, other than two people trying their best to be together!

i hope i was of help!

[Bobadoe]

I liked it.....but I am not the kind of person who has "things" in it they like...

It is the overall mood and feeling behind the work that makes it good or bad...in my book at least(short book)

So I can not help you much....sorry. BUT I can say just have feelings for your work.

[Waste]

Thank you for your comments =] They've helped me think about continuing this piece. After the section above I actually jump back to when 'i' was eight years old, which is when the couple first meet. I'm not sure if it is like other romance stories, i mean it may be a bit predictable but i think i can get the emotions into it.

The story is of these two friends that only meet up every few years for the summer because the boy's mum and dad are divorced and the mum hates the dad. They eventually fall for each other and like most teenagers want what they cant have. The story progresses with the girls father becoming abusive and her parents not liking the relationship. I suppose it is a little predictable, and I dont have an ending yet. I was just writing that piece because of something that happened in my life and the writer in me made me think up how they got to where they are in the piece.

Even in my head their relationship isnt over. Lol. =]
Here's the next little bit (the beginning of what would be the first chapter if this became long enough for that.)

The first time I saw him, I thought nothing of it. Just another kid moving through the phases of life like everyone else, what caught my eye was his hair, a brilliant shock of gold in the summer sun; he was wearing baggy grey tracksuit bottoms and a loose polo shirt, his light green jumper was tied around his waist. He wore thick black rimmed glasses and black converses.

I was on the bus at the time, leaning against the window, half asleep because I’d only managed to get a few hours the night before and that day I’d been to a party with mum, the kind that had goodie bags and party hats, I’d been on the bouncy castle all afternoon which had tired me out, my mum was loosely holding one of my hands.

I remember that my eyes followed him and I even turned on my seat to watch him go, he seemed too young to be out on his own, and that amazed me. Although I soon turned back and rested against the seat again, mum held out a sweet from the party bag and he was forgotten. Just another kid, in no way was he more important than a strawberry lollipop.

A few stops later we got off, my mother standing first and tugging at my hand, my mother was beautiful, even at eight years old I was in awe of her. She had wavy red hair that fell to the middle of her back, the most gorgeous hair, it was always shiny and soft and smelling of strawberries. I remember lying with her in the park on a hot summer’s day and being held in her arms and smelling the sweet strawberries. At the time I also had red hair but mine was really short and wispy, a full fringe falling into my eyes. I had a thick layer of freckles over my cheeks and my nose; I think I looked like a ginger cabbage patch doll.

The bus stopped by a large park with a play area at the centre, whenever we got the bus anywhere we always had to walk through the park to get home. If it was late the teenagers would shout at us because they thought my mum was attractive, I’d hide behind her long legs, my cheeks going red as if they were shouting at me. On that day we walked through the park around three pm and I played on the swings for a little while, we always stopped to play when we passed by the park. I think mum enjoyed it just as much as I did.

I remember smiling all the way home and welcoming our pet dog, a white greyhound that we’d rescued from a rescue centre named Milky Star, into my arms. Milky knocked me down like she always did and mum had to push her away. Like always. It was a simple life, I went to school and I came home, I went to the park with mum and then I came home. I liked my home back then, even though now I can see that it was a dump. Dad made it that way.

That day, when we got home, dad staggered into the hall a sneer on his unshaven face, thick eyebrows drawn together and hooding his dark blue eyes. He was a large man with thick heavy limbs and straggled grey hair, it was only in the past two years that he’d grown a beer belly because of his heavy drinking. At that time I wasn’t sure why my beloved father didn’t seem to pay any attention to me, but like any eight year old child I soon got over it, finding solace in my toys.

As soon as we got home dad beckoned for mum to follow him into the kitchen and mum then told me to go outside. I was used to that, being pushed outside when dad took mum into the kitchen, it’s only now that I realise why he did it. So like any good obedient child I went outside into our small low walled front garden, with grass that came up to my waist at that time, and I found one of my dolls. I’d named her Anne; when I’d first gotten her she had had long blonde hair, but I decided it needed a cut, she lay where I had left her a few days before, in the long grass where she’d gotten a little damp and attracted some bugs, she really was a ghastly looking thing.

I remember that I was facing our shabby two bedroom house, bouncing my doll up and down on my lap as I sat on the low wall. The house looked squashed in between two others; in fact every house on my street was squashed like that. We were often woken in the night by the loud music that the neighbours played, dad didn’t like me talking to those neighbours; he called them dirty gays. Which always baffled me, they looked clean, and dressed pretty for men.

So there I was in a shabby little street bouncing my doll up and down on my lap as I pretended that I was teaching her to walk across my legs when a voice came from behind me, arrogant, sharp, a little higher than it is now. “Only girls play with dolls.”

I looked around, the sun hurting my eyes as I tried to make out the person that stood in front of me, the light fringed his hair like a halo and his skin looked pale and almost glowing. I thought he was an angel, and then I saw the green jumper and the thick rimmed glasses. I lifted my chin, “I am a girl.”

He smiled; brilliant white teeth as he leant forward and brushed my fringe aside, his touch a little clumsy, his legs and arms were long as he was still growing into them. He peered into my eyes with his large chocolate ones then laughed. “No you aren’t.” he said, “Girls are pretty, and have long hair.” I raised a hand to my hair self consciously as I thought on his words.

“My dad doesn’t like my hair long.” I shot back, pressing my lips together and pouting a little, “He cuts it because he says I’m not as pretty as my mum.” He dropped his hand, slipping it into his pocket as he sat beside me.

“Your mum?”

“Yeah, my mum is beautiful.”

He started laughing again, “You fancy girls?” he prodded my chest, “You must be a boy.” I frowned and dropped my head, looking down at Anne; I could feel tears building behind my eyes out of pure frustration. It was then that I felt his finger hook under my chin and tilt it up. “I was only joking.”

[pink_lotus]

ITs actually a good story u know
all those verbs, adjectives, nouns, hyperboles, adverbs and pronouns etc.
i like the begi'in though i kinda guessed he was either going to leave her 'cause of business or watever his reason is

[wi_sam]

Lollipops are important you know!

[Zero Ichi]

keep it coming waste, i like things that are real, just as much as i like dragons and fairy tale stuffs, this is really good and i wanna see more, but dont force it, i can wait!

and i was always more of an ice cream kid, no lollipops for me!

[inuaudi101]

yeah waste! ur rely good- id love 2 read more!!! hey im writting sumthing right now- but itz totally about inuyasha- i wuz wonderin- could u...reveiw it 4 me?

[alsharid]

Nice. going well in my opinion. Keep it up, some of us need a pastime other than anime sometimes.

[Waste]

Thank you for the encouragement etc. Just to let everyone know I don't write short stories. If I continue this one it's going to be long, especially because it isn't even finished properly in my head. This is one of those stories that the characters have to tell. =]

yeah waste! ur rely good- id love 2 read more!!! hey im writting sumthing right now- but itz totally about inuyasha- i wuz wonderin- could u...reveiw it 4 me?

Ok. I could do a review from just those three lines.

1. Spelling and grammar. Honestly if you are a writer it doesn't matter where you're writing keep it literate. From that I just can't help but not want to read your written piece encase it is full of these errors/ your shortenings. I'm not being a grammar nazi here, making a point. =]

2. I haven't seen this anime, but really if you're going far as a writer do not base your work on other peoples. Even if you do not intend to publish a piece it will get you into bad habits. (Trust me I started out like this) it will get to the point where you've stomped out your imagination because you're feeding off of someone else's. Go ahead and get some inspiration from it but don't make it "totally about..."

Yeah I think I'm done with my review / waste's tips :P =]

Check back, if no one posts after this I may add in the next section of this piece. =]

Waste x

[Zero Ichi]

Thank you for the encouragement etc. Just to let everyone know I don't write short stories. If I continue this one it's going to be long, especially because it isn't even finished properly in my head. This is one of those stories that the characters have to tell. =]


ha if its possible i wanna see the whole thing, when you get it done that is!!

im a writer too but i kinda wanna keep my stuff away from others' eyes, cuz theyre ideas for the games that i wanna create later on in life, dont want any leaks 5 years before i get the chance to even try and make them!

and yes inu, waste is correct, be creative and make your own, thats what people tend to appreciate in work, the fact that this came from the writers mind, not anothers (thats why i hate most rappers these days, stolen work from younger, and yes, better minds cause they dont have a good enough head to think their own shit up!!!)

but if your going after the storyline, i guess thats ok, theres a bunch of kids (cant remember the site, sorry) that are making their own manga to the afterstory of dragonball, dragonball z, and dragonball gt!

what theyre doing is pretty cool reviving a done series and making a fan-based storyline to what happens after, wish i could remember that site!!!!!!

[Waste]

He said, shrugging his shoulders, “You aren’t pretty, but you’re still a girl.” I pulled my head away and looked down again, still upset.

“My mum would call you a bully. She says I should tell her if I ever get bullied.”

“Sounds like you’re dad bullies you.” he prodded my shoulder a little too hard, it hurt but I didn’t say anything, not wanting to look bad in front of this strange, interesting, almost beautiful boy. I looked up at him, not sure how that could be true “Do you always do what your parents say?” I nodded; what else could I do? “Do you like doing what they say?” He followed up with another question, I shook my head. “Then they are bullies.” He drew up the conclusion and I found myself agreeing to his words. I nodded. He raised one of his thin blonde eyebrows and I giggled having never seen that done before I immediately tried it out myself, and failed. He grinned widely, “And there I was thinking I’d upset you.”

“You did.” I informed.

He shrugged, “But you aren’t upset anymore so I’m not a bully.”

“No.” I agreed. He nodded as if to say good then got to his feet, rolling his shoulders and then straightening his glasses. “Where are you going?”

“To the park.”

“On your own?”

“Yeah, see I don’t listen to my dad.” He puffed up his chest and gave a lop-sided smile. I was instantly in awe of him, this kid didn’t do as he was told, no one ordered him about. “I’m ten so I can go out on my own.”

“So no ones stops you?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“So they let you?”

“Yep.” My mouth fell open, and I swung my legs over the wall, wanting to stand on the other side and go to the park. In fact I was intent on doing it until I heard my dad’s voice, barking out of the front door.

“Cassidy. Come in. Now.”

The boy’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’ then he grinned and whispered “Oh he looks like a beastie.” His eyes flashed as I giggled, I’d never heard my dad described like that. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at my dad, he didn’t return the smile, and in fact he was looking at the boy now.

“And who are you?” he snapped. A flicker of something like fear went through the boy’s eyes but he quickly pulled himself together, slouching to the side a little, just like the insolent boy he would turn into.

“I’m Chance sir.” He nodded.

My dad raised his chin slightly. “You want to get away from my daughter kid?” he growled, even I leant back a little at the ferocity of his gaze. I swung my legs back over the wall and stood up, clutching Anne, I could feel the boy, Chance, watching me as I went towards my dad. My dad lowered his gaze to look at me, “You can leave that tattered thing out here.” He said, meaning Anne. I was about to loosen my grip on the doll when I remembered Chance, it felt as if he was still watching me, although when I looked back to the street he was gone.

“No.” I said, “I want to take Anne inside.” I looked back at my dad, jaw set and shoulders squared.

I have to admit that my father looked a little shocked at my answer, but not for long, I suppose I should have anticipated his reaction. He reached down and yanked Anne from my arms, I remember crying out and jumping as he threw my doll out of the front garden and into the street. I went to run to the street but he took my arm. “I said get inside.” he growled as he backed into the house, pulling me with him. I went obediently, head down, forcing back my tears. I could hear mum in the kitchen as she started dinner but I knew not to go in there, if I did she’d be crying and tell me to go away anyway.

So instead I climbed the stairs to my room, I‘d spend the rest of the day there, until dinner was ready. Even then I’d have to eat quickly and not talk and watch my manners or dad would shout. He used to shout a lot, mainly because he was always drunk or on the verge of being so.

I remember years later when mum told me that it wasn’t my dads fault, the drinking, he simply did it because he felt useless, he could not read very well, nor could he write, he had anger issues because he wasn’t very good at expressing himself. “He’ll come around.” She’d always say that, “One day your dad will realise how good he has it, and then everything will be fine.” There was no shifting her point of view. Her belief in him.