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Old August 2nd, 2010, 10:03 PM   #1
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Join Date: July 31, 2010
Location: 33°45′18″N 84°23′24″W
Age: 24
Gender: Female
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Default How's this?

Should I finish this story? I wrote this back 8th grade when I was in my Stephenie Meyer phase. Is it still salvagable, or should I scrap it? Where should I go with it, if I do continue it?

Here goes:

"Ow" was all I could think as I rose from the hard log of driftwood. It felt as if my coccyx had shattered. I turned and stepped over the makeshift seat. I had to get some air. Ever since Cousin Norman's ditz girlfriend Destinée arrived, she went out of her way to remind everyone what day it was. August 31st. That turd Norman must've told her that the same day as Aunt Angela's "Back-to-school Barbeque Bonanza" was also the day my brother tried to kill me. It's been two years since then. Destinée first greeted me by crushing me in a hug, then saying, "Isn't it a great day to be alive?!?" You know, she's surprisingly strong for someone who's 4'9...

Presently, she was toasting me for living, going on and on about how great I was, though we had just met the day before. She obviously didn’t understand the point of the barbeque being held on THAT day. The point of it was to distract me from the horrible details of the day, i.e. the anniversary of my almost-death, and to celebrate the good details, i.e. the 15th anniversary of my birth. Yeah, I know, what a birthday present. That doesn’t matter now.

Anyway, I stepped over my makeshift stool and walked towards the lilac waves. They reflected the color of the dusky sky. I could hear the commotion behind me as I walked away. Destinée stopped and called after me, her cartoony voice so hard to ignore. When I didn’t respond, she started bawling and tugging on Norman's arm like a five-year-old. When Norman turned to face her, she whined, "Why did she leave? Did I do something wrong?" Norman just winced and shrugged sheepishly, setting her bawling once more. I just ignored her.

All of a sudden, a shadowy figure that glowed in the moonlight approached. Destinée stopped sobbing abruptly, then screamed, always polite, "GHOST!" A voice, smooth as the sand after the tide washed over it, laughed. We realized it was the figure, which happened to be male. Aunt Angie stood and yelled, "Sorry sir, this section is private. You can't be on the beach here." The man looked down and chuckled. His teeth shined ivory as he looked back up and said, "I am sorry. Please forgive me." He said this so eloquently, Angela opened her mouth as if to invite him into the party. She stopped when he proceeded to move out onto wetter sand until his ankles were always grazed by the surf. For a second time, Angela opened her mouth, but he then rebutted "You rented the beach; no one can own the sea." It was when he said that, a breeze blew, torturing the right side of my sore body with sand. The man, who was about 15 feet away now, whipped his head around, and looked inquisitively at me, but kept walking.

There was something in his gaze that captivated me. Maybe it was his eyes, frostbitten at first, but smoldering under the surface, like a river frozen over with a hot spring underneath. Or me, because even though I could feel my hot blood pulsing under my skin, I was frozen, rooted to the spot.

Now that I look at it, I think I'll continue it only if someone wants to read it. It's melodramatic.

Last edited by starslight; August 2nd, 2010 at 10:03 PM. Reason: the font is too big
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