?

Log in

No account? Create an account

30th Oct, 2011

Hello again!

Since I hadn't posted in a while, I thought I might come and drop round. How is everyone?
Tags:

13th Oct, 2011

http://www.writerscafe.org/melancholy music/?z=90330

Melancholy Music | WritersCafe.org
It's my account on WritersCafe where I'm posting all my stories!

http://www.writerscafe.org/melancholy music/?z=90330

Melancholy Music | WritersCafe.org
READ!!! PLEASE!!!
It's my account on WritersCafe where I'm going to post my stories.

7th Oct, 2011

And another thing...

I'm also on Writerscafe, and I HIGHLY recomend it if your looking for that kind of site. It gives you a chance to post your stories/poems/stageplays e.c.t... to the public of the world, and get their feedback on it. You can also enter/create a contest, where you and other writers comepete for the top spot. If you created it, you have the choice of picking the winner yourself of asking other members to vote. You can also give out prizes. The more often you go on, the more points you get, and the more points you get, the easier it will be to find you on the filter.

So yeah... If your planning on signing up and/or want to add me as a friend, then my username is melancholy music. That's what I'll come up as.

And if you do add me, tell me that you read my recomdation.

Hope to speak soon


6th Oct, 2011

Just a note to say...

Hi! No- really, there more to it. Since I love writing, I just wanted to let you know that I'm with Amateur Writing (a writing site), so if you have time, check it out. There's tons of good stories that other people have written, and they also do poems. My stories aren't up on there yet because I haven't finished it, so don't bother looking for it. I will keep you updated as to when I post my story. Another thing is that I'm also on Fanfiction, and written a few stories, but I can't go on it all that often because my computer blocks the site. I'll be able to go on it every Monday and Tuesday. The stories I've written are for Dr.Who and Harry Potter, but I intend to write more.
I'm recomending these sites to you if you like writing stories, but you can just look at them is you don't want to sign up.


P.S: I'm sharing the Fanfiction account with a friend. Our name is bittersweet-lemons.

Chapter one's finished!

Hey guys! Chapter one's finaly finished! I stayed up all night even through I had school in the morning... So do you want to see it? Here it comes...



Time’s Confusing Privileges:  
 
I tapped my pen on the table, head resting on hand, counting the seconds on the clock. A light, shining no brighter than a dim table lamp, emitted from the other side of the room, making its way towards me. All the other lights were off. The spotlight engulfed me, a dull shadow spreading out. Why I was here? I have no idea. A few specs of dust were floating aimlessly around in the dim air.
   “Dear me. Oh, dear me. This is a disappointment.” I wanted to scream. No – I wanted to run away. Running, though, was not an option. A figure walked out from the dark, sinister shadows in the corners of the oddly-squared room.
   “You could say something. Something, anything, that will get out of this mess. Of course, being your-self, you’ll shut your mouth and let things be.” A soft, kind voice. But I knew better then to fall for it. Behind it was a dark, dark hole of anger and badness. He was a human black hole. Charles Bough was annoying. No, scratch that last. Exasperating, horrible, mean, terrible, frustrating.
I was still there. Still tapping my pen on the table, still squinting against the light shining right in my eyes. I was cold, I was hungry, I was...
   “Sorry to interrupt your chain of thoughts, but do you care to answer me? Because I’m getting fidgety.” Charles looked at me blankly, as I tried to read any expression that crossed his face. Eventually, I gave up.
   “Sorry, what was the question?” I spoke coolly, and he recoiled at my bluntness. In time, he spluttered out,
   “What where you doing last night?” He had gained back most of his confidence and self-thought-importance by then. I almost laughed. I held it back, but I couldn’t help the small smile that had crossed my lips.
   “Last night? What time?”
   “You know what bloody time!”
   “Um, I don’t think I do.”
   “Let’s say eight. Eight last night. Yes.” Ok. So, let us just gather in all that had happened. I’m sitting in a tiny square room, and a man that I hate asks me what I was doing last night at eight. I’m now very dizzy.
   “I went to bed early.” I lied.
   “Don’t lie!” He shouted.
   “Ok, ok. I was at a party with my friends.” That, if you were wondering, was true. Although he still looked like he didn’t believe me. I released a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding. His face softened. It was quite scary; just like a stone melting right in front of you.
   “Look. I don’t want to tell your mother. Please, don’t lie.” And that was when my temper snapped.
   “Do I look like I’m lying? Because, guess what? I’m not!” I stood up, and stormed over to a low, thin wooden door. I wrenched it open, for it was locked, but nothing gets in the way of my angry self. I ran out of the room, and looked both left and right down the corridor, before I ran down the red carpet of the hotel. I didn’t know the Savoy had such horrible, horrible rooms in it! Plain and dull like that! Lucky I had stayed at the Savoy: I managed to find my way out in no time.
It had rained. The streets were wet and a damp smell rose in the air. Some people still had their umbrellas up, some had taken them down. From the top of a London-exclusive red double decker bus, the umbrellas that were still up probably looked pretty. Red polka-dots here, blue stripes there. The bus went round the roundabout, missing it’s turning due to a badly-driven car swerving in front of it, and going left instead of right. It braked to a halt, startling all the passengers and flinging them to the front of the vehicle. A shout of protest. A blushing bus-driver. I got off, even though this wasn’t my stop. I walked along the street, hands in my fur coat pockets, kicking small stones and pebbles that were just there. I knew where I was, but it wasn’t registered in my mind.
  “Ivy Iris Burns!” I winced at the sound of my name. I hate it. Turning to look at who called, I heard a pair of feet jogging down the path. One of my friends, Celeste Brighton (at least she’s got a pretty name!), joined me at my side. I looked at her flowing blonde hair, and then thought of my dark red mess. She had light brown eyes, a statement against her hair. I had bright green eyes. My hair really clashed with my pale skin, but what could I do about it? Celeste was lucky to be so pretty.
   “What are you doing here, Ivy-Iris?” Mental note to self: make sure she never calls my middle name again.
   “Dunno. Just got off here ‘cause I wanted to.” I kept walking, leaving her behind a little until she jogged back into pace with me. We passed a block of flats and a small Tesco, all in silence. I stopped and looked around myself. Well. This was grey and dull. The only thing attractive was a cottage, thatched roof and all, on the right of the road. The iron gate surrounding it had been chipped in places, and ivy was climbing up it. It had white-washed walls and flowers, honeysuckle, roses, wisteria, trailing up the clean, smooth walls. No lights were on. Figures. It was only five in the evening.
   “Wow… Since when was this here?” I shrugged, and walked toward it. I might as well ask where I was.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
No answer.
   “Don’t think anyone’s in…” Ahhh… Very helpful. Thank you, Celeste. I put my hand on the nob, and pushed. To my amazement, it swung open easily. I called up the stairs.
   “Hello?”
   “Ivy, come on, there’s no-one here.” Celeste turned to leave, but got stopped by a large crash.
   “Eep! What was that?”
   “No idea,” I said, looking at the grand-piano that had fallen in front of my friend. “But I don’t think it’s good.” We kept walking. The front hall was rather long … And plain… And dark. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the only furniture was a vintage wooden table, leaning against the left wall. Resting on it was dust. Lots and lots of dust. Speaking of which… There was a lot of dust.
The dining room. Was, again, plain. There was an antique looking-glass hanging above a small open fire place. In the middle of the room was a circle shaped table with oak chairs round it.
The living room was empty. Unless you count the table that’s crumbling away with age. But I didn’t. 
The bedroom… Well, the bedroom was interesting. There was a single bed in middle of the room, a racketed dressing table, and a large, Harry Potter like trunk leaning against the wall, lopsided. I walked towards it.
   “Um… Ivy?”
   “Hum?”
   “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ignored the question, and kept walking, until I had reached the trunk. I clicked it open.
Nothing inside.
We both sighed. Then giggled.
The giggling lasted for what felt like forever, but it stopped rather suddenly when a scream was heard from downstairs. 
We ran down the hard, narrow stairs until we got to where we thought we heard the scream from. We came face-to-face with an older lady, no younger than thirty-five. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and looked panicked.
   “Oh! Oh! Sorry!” She cried. We looked at her.
   “Um… Do you live here? ‘Cause if you do then we’re so sorry. We just came in because the door was open and there was no-one in, but… I don’t know…” She looked at us, tilted her head, all in confusion, before chattering away.
   “No, I don’t live here. I too came in because the door was open.” We left shortly after that conversation, promising a talk in the small corner-café.
The lady’s name was Victoria Goodman.
Victoria. That reminds me… Of something...
Now, what could it be?
The chat in the café went well. I think. Vickie (Victoria told us to call her that) explained that she screamed when an unexpected chair fell in front of her. Celeste told her about the piano, and I left early because I was exhausted. Collapsing on my bed, I pulled off my shoes and my blue tank top. I lay there, gathering the events of the day.
A soft breeze ran through my room, swishing the curtains about. I sat up, hair a mess. A golden sun shone outside, coming through my window and bathing me in a yellow light. As soon as I remembered last night’s events, I tumbled out of bed, and landed in a heap in front of my wardrobe.
   Knock knock.
   Do people have no respect these days?
   I made my way downstairs and opened the door. I looked at the person on the other side of the threshold. Matthew Plow. Former… I don’t know…? Friend?
   I showed him in.
   “I can’t believe you came at this un-humanly hour.” I complained as I made tea.
   “What would you call ‘humanly’?”
   “No idea. Certainly not eleven in the morning. It’s the weekend, for heaven’s sake! How about…” I stirred the tea as I thought. Matt cocked his head.
   “Is eleven too early? How about I come at one?”
   “ It would make more sense! Eleven, indeed. Haven’t you ever heard of sleeping in?” I tutted.
   “Actually, I came to talk to you about Victoria. I believe you met her last night.”
   “Yeah, what about her?”
   “There’s a plan to murder her in a few days.”
I let that sentence sink in and stopped stirring the tea.
   “You mean, like, someone’s gonna kill her?”
   “That is the general definition of murder, yes.”
 Then I did something very age appropriate: I stuck my tongue out at him.
   “Oh, very mature! I would’ve expected more from you.”
   This time, I rolled my eyes.
   “How’s this got anything to do with me then?”
   “Huh? What?”
   “Vickie’s murder? What about it?”
   “I don’t know. What about it?”
   “Well what have you come to tell me?”
   “Oh. Well. I’ve been told-“ I cut him off.
   “Told by whom?”
   “Uh… Confidential people…”
   “Oh. Them. Anyway? You were saying?”
   “Yes. Yes I was. I’ve been told that you need to time travel to save her. Go back in time.”
It didn’t take me two seconds to just stare in horror and scream. The last thing I heard was my name being called out.


Did I mention the chapter's name? 'Cause I changed it.  Leave a comment!!

4th Oct, 2011

Help Meeeeeeeee...!

Right. For some odd reason (I don't know what it is), I feel really sad and just want to curl up and cry. I know, it sounds really stupid. But I do. Sooooo..... I've come to talk to you all! Yay! Come on! Aren't you happy? Oh. Ok then. Do you want to hear more of my story? Chapter one isn't finished yet, but I suppose I could give you a paragraph... Huh? Alright. If you don't want to read it, don't. If you do, then please leave a comment. :D


I tapped my pen on the table, head resting on hand, counting the seconds on the clock. A light, shining no brighter than a dim table lamp, emitted from the other side of the room, making its way towards me. All the other lights were off. The spotlight engulfed me, a dull shadow spreading out. Why I was here? I have no idea. A few specs of dust were floating aimlessly around in the dim air.

 

Whoo! Did you like it? It's the start of chapter one, and my favourite paragraph! Chapter one is called Trusting, by the way... Right. You're probably getting bored of me, so I'll just be going.

Oh yeah: leave a comment please!!! It helps me improve my writing.

1st Oct, 2011

Prologue of my new story...

I'm working on a mystery novel called Memories of Yesterday. It's probably rubbish, but tell me what you think.
Just the prologue coming up now.... (Oh my God! I'm so shy!) Don't laugh!


 


I could start with that 'Once upon a time' rubbish. I'm not going to, though. This is, as you will find, quite the opposite. I will, instead, start with...
Yesterday.
I've been walking on the dangerously-slippery sand of the giant hourglass for most of my life. It happens to everyone. One wrong turn or big mistake, and you could be hurtling down the tiny, tight hole. You'll end up bruised, scratched, both mentally and physically. So, I step carefully.
   You can't see mistakes, or accidents. They happen to the best of people.
   I was sitting with a few of my friends in a small, cozy cafe on the corner of London. We were watching people walk past the run-down windows, trying their best to shelter from the rain. A young lady with dark brown hair walked past. Little did I know that I would save her from her murderer in the very near future.
   So, yes. It is about now where my hourglass problems start. And I can tell you now - it's one hell of a fall.
   Of course, I didn't know at the time. But... Once it had got into everyone's heads... It wouldn't come out again. Memories don’t heal broken hearts.



Ok.... Um... Did you like it? Now I'm all shy and stuff...


Just a little note....

Hiya! As you probably know, I'm new, so I don't know where everything is. So bear with me. Please. Ok.
Here, you will find a blog (DUH!) and a few stories that I've written. Feel free to comment!