Experienced Elementalist
- Joined
- Jun 16, 2006
- Messages
- 208
- Reaction score
- 18
We just had a short-story assignment in our English class to base a writing off The Catcher in The Rye's writing style. and I wanted to write something creepy and compelling. This is entirely fiction. It's about a teenager who walks into a high school with a gun and starts shooting people and blames them for his actions and feels sorrow and misery over "having" to hurt them.
I haven't come up with a name, and I want to continue it, do you think I should?
Unnamed
They call me “the man without a face”. It isn’t a title I’m very proud of having nor would it be the title I would choose for myself, in fact I would probably have chosen something along the lines of “the moon” or “the endless vision of space”. I can completely understand why they call me it though – not that you would care or anything – I didn’t like to show myself often. I shouldn’t even be writing to you right now. I thought of myself as an ugly creature, a beast, the deformed mammoth. I did something very bad once and now nobody will ever think of me differently. I am truly an indifferent–an ugly monster. I don’t use the word monster scarcely either. I am more scared of myself than anybody else.
My family disowned me a few years ago for whatever reasons they had – not that I should care, from the day I birthed to the day they threw me flat on my butt was a living hell. I think they pushed me to where I am today, I removed myself from society, I hurt innocent people and now I hide – I hide to an endless degree. I hide from the misery and sorrow of my own. I hide from you and from them. I hide always. It had to be maybe two or three years ago that I hurt those children. I hurt all of them. I’ll never forget the boy that fought back for her. I was just simply inserting a new clip and he stormed at me and he made me defend myself. I shot him. I shot him dead in between the eyes. And the stomach. And the heart. And the shoulder. I just kept shooting him.
I’m sorry.
Cody
I haven't come up with a name, and I want to continue it, do you think I should?
Unnamed
They call me “the man without a face”. It isn’t a title I’m very proud of having nor would it be the title I would choose for myself, in fact I would probably have chosen something along the lines of “the moon” or “the endless vision of space”. I can completely understand why they call me it though – not that you would care or anything – I didn’t like to show myself often. I shouldn’t even be writing to you right now. I thought of myself as an ugly creature, a beast, the deformed mammoth. I did something very bad once and now nobody will ever think of me differently. I am truly an indifferent–an ugly monster. I don’t use the word monster scarcely either. I am more scared of myself than anybody else.
My family disowned me a few years ago for whatever reasons they had – not that I should care, from the day I birthed to the day they threw me flat on my butt was a living hell. I think they pushed me to where I am today, I removed myself from society, I hurt innocent people and now I hide – I hide to an endless degree. I hide from the misery and sorrow of my own. I hide from you and from them. I hide always. It had to be maybe two or three years ago that I hurt those children. I hurt all of them. I’ll never forget the boy that fought back for her. I was just simply inserting a new clip and he stormed at me and he made me defend myself. I shot him. I shot him dead in between the eyes. And the stomach. And the heart. And the shoulder. I just kept shooting him.
I’m sorry.
Cody