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Post by fireflame on Mar 27, 2006 19:32:04 GMT -5
me weird hahahaha ok maybe i am....shh dont tell anyone....
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Ed
Moderator
I'm losing my mind and I don't think you could save me this time
Posts: 1,728
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Post by Ed on Mar 28, 2006 9:02:35 GMT -5
Too late. Don't hurt the little angel! (Not you, FF. I was quoting Lilo and Stitch.)
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Post by Petey on Mar 28, 2006 19:26:52 GMT -5
I have a story. One time there was a girl, who always tried to be happy, and never show her real feelings. so her school friends never knew what was really going on. they didn't know what life she was victim of. At home, cheyenne was yelled at -screamed at daily, sometimes hourly. though she did absolutely nothing wrong. But there was nothing she could do about it. her mother babied her little brother far beyond any possible reasoning. and no matter what happened anything she did was wrong. Anything her little brother told her mom was true, and everything she did and said was false, wrong. and it tore her down. one day, Cheyenne's little brother told her mother that cheyenne'd been rude to him and hadn't let him play with something that she valued highly, and had cost her much. So her mom tried to make cheyenne let her little brother play with it. but cheyenne knew he would break it and she would be left without it. so she still didn't let him play with it. Later that day cheyenne's mom forced cheyenne to give it to her. and that drove cheyenne into hard and horrible feelings of hatred and remorse. There was nothing she could do. she wanted to do something. anything. Her mother had driven her WAY to far. . . she cried, long, hard, and painfully. but there was nothing she could do, no where for her to turn. . . . . and the feelings inside her stung her like a knife coated in vinegar, ever cutting. . .
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Post by fireflame on Mar 28, 2006 23:38:12 GMT -5
fine, edd be that way btw nice story petey
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Ed
Moderator
I'm losing my mind and I don't think you could save me this time
Posts: 1,728
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Post by Ed on Mar 29, 2006 9:23:49 GMT -5
Sad. Reminds me of someone I know. BTW do we know what cheyanne valued highly?
Anywho. I got a story:
A fortnight ago (2 weeks), There was a something very cool happening. And it was DHoom. ;D
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Post by fireflame on Mar 29, 2006 18:34:16 GMT -5
i have the shortest sry i live ready ok here it is ..........................................ok there it is see it is the shortest alive
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Post by mai on Mar 29, 2006 20:18:08 GMT -5
i like that idea petey. here is what i was writing at lunch.... A sweet, honey-like melody flowed from Randal's fingers as he tapped the black and ivory keys. The melody was soft and comforting. Soon it started crescendoing to a fortissimo before turning minor. The once sweet A major melody turned abruptly to a B Flat minor piece, no more lightness was about it. Notes hung in the still air momentarily before turning into only a haunting memory. (to be continued)
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Post by Petey on Mar 29, 2006 20:57:18 GMT -5
I could've done better on my story. but I dont' have the time to fix it now. I did change it a little. but barely at all.
btw, nice mai.
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Post by mai on Mar 30, 2006 12:15:27 GMT -5
thanks petey.
(continuing)
As the entrancing melody ended, Randal breathed a sigh of frustration, slamming his palm on the keys. No matter how he tried he couldn't find the song that hung inside him. The haunting knowledge of this frustrated him beyond comprehension. Regaining his self control once more, he turned to the long grand piano once again and set his fingers on the keys. HIs mind led his fingers over the ivory keys, constantly improvising when his memory failed to bring a new note. This time the resultt of his work pleased him. Memorizing each note, he added it to the long list of his compositions. Randal ended the song on a light grace note. Satisfaction ran through his vains yet his face remained impassive and stoical. Nothing ever showed through his strong and practiced guard. Nothing showed in his eyes. Nothing ever would.
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Andy sat slumped in her corner of the over-crowded cafeteria. As usual, she was alone at the light blue circular table in the farthest corner. A half empty Coke botttle stood in front of her next to a thick Trig book. A black, single strap book bag slumped against the leg of her chair; a notebook was open in front of her displaying a long written work. She clutched a No. 2 pencil in her hand, her knuckles white from holding it perhaps a little too hard. Gazing out over the teeming crowd, a sense of bitterness engulfed her. It was just like every other day: she was just a shadow. No, she was less than that. She was ignored, and simply not worth noticing. (TBC)
(TBC)
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Ed
Moderator
I'm losing my mind and I don't think you could save me this time
Posts: 1,728
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Post by Ed on Mar 30, 2006 15:01:33 GMT -5
Wow... I want more!
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Post by fireflame on Mar 30, 2006 17:35:26 GMT -5
so do i!!!!!
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Post by mai on Mar 30, 2006 18:28:21 GMT -5
thanks! that's a good thing, i think.
Her life was lived as one invisible, unknowingly ignored by others, and still she lived. No matter how they wished her gone, she would still be there. Each day brought with it the pain of rejection, the hurt of going unoticed by even those she had once considered friends. But in this world of absolute uncertainty and people who's judgement was based primarily on what the "in" crowd would accept, she was completely alone. Secretely, she had one wish and one desire, however hopeless it may be, however imaginary. All she wanted was for one person to show her that she had worth and that she wasn't as invisible as the world saw her.
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Silence engulfed the room, deathly still and dark. What little light the moon gave shone through the shuttered window on the west north wall; no light was to be found. Momentarily, a sound disturbed the sleeping quiet, but was soon forgiven and forgotten as it disappeared. Soundlessly, Randal walked in the room and flipped his light switch on. His small room contained very little, and any outsider would only see things of little importance. Papers were strewn across a small desk in one corner, pens and pencils fallen out of place lay on the floor or by the closet, and pages of handwritten music floated aimlessly in the sea of nothing. College brochures were tacked up on his closet door, and applications were stacked on his desk as well. His bed was on the south side, facing the window, with a black bedspread and white pillows. What one couldn't see were the notebooks of lyrics and songs that he had also written. These were kept under the matress of his bed, safe from prying eyes. Randal dropped his book bag on his desk chair and rumaged around in the paper to find his music composition book. As he searched, he stacked the compositions in a pile, sorting each page to it's song. The pile grew until it contained five or six pieces of four or more pages each. No one knew about these, including his parents and family. It would cause too many questions, betray who he really was. Upon finding the book, he laid on his bed and wrote down each of the notes to the new piece. The light melody still echoed through his head, playing itself over and over again, making sure he caught each note. Only hours ago he had arrived at the quiet little music shop for work. As was with every day, he helped customers find music, sold the best pianos to wealthy families, recommended pieces for various abilities. When closing time came around, he locked the front door, straightened everything, and hid himself in the performance hall to play. And, as with every day, he had composed various pieces, only remembering the pieces he felt were worth remembering. But the haunting memory of that sonata that he just couldn't find lurked in the back of his mind like a bad nightmare. He knew it was there, and yet there was a piece missing, like a tile missing from a puzzle. Until he found that missing piece, the memory would haunt him everyday as he tried to call it to the surface. Titling the six page composition, he added it to the stack. He turned back to his homework, for the senior finals were coming up, and he had work to do. His monotonous schedule left him tired and worn, but he hid all of that during the day, for he was student body president, and people saw him as energetic and outgoing. It wasn't until he sat at that grand piano that he truly felt like he knew who he was and what he wanted to do. Turning on music, he sat down to study and to once again be the person that everyone knew.
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Ed
Moderator
I'm losing my mind and I don't think you could save me this time
Posts: 1,728
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Post by Ed on Mar 31, 2006 13:35:55 GMT -5
"Awesome" --NY times "Simply breathtaking" -- rolling stones "I really liked it." --Ed
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Post by mai on Mar 31, 2006 16:19:51 GMT -5
lol. thanks ed. um, i have more, but it's in my room. hmm, maybe i will type it later.
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Post by Petey on Apr 1, 2006 13:47:34 GMT -5
I have some stories. I'm just far too lazy to type them onto here. and not all of them are very pleasant....ed has read some of em.
I might put some on if i feel like it. I dunno.
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