Showing posts with label short. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short. Show all posts

Saturday, January 18, 2014

"Bite me" - Prologue - by Nanna Andersen

He screamed.
Screamed again.
Then again, this time a little louder and more like the sound of a creacking door. His chin touched his chest. Burried itself in the thick, sticky hair flooded in sweat.
He tried looking at her but failed. The deep, brown, bloodshot eyes were just as heavy as the chains holding him up. Having failed his attempt he instead focused on the tiles underneath him. Red. Painted red with blood. His blood. The smell stung in his nostrils, made him dizzy. It would be so easy throwing up. Letting it out, but the easy way out wasn't necessarily the best. And he knew this. Therefore, he held it in. Swallowed the lump of fluid and leftovers from last night's dinner.
"You know," she said while sharpening the knife. After all this time it had gotten a bit dull. Even with her back towards him, he could sense the smile widening on her lips, showing the fairytale white teeth. She held the knife in front of her face and caressed it. Still with the knife pressed against her cheek in a lovely manner, she turned to face him.
He had been right. The smile was certainly there. She continued in a rusty voice while walking towards him. "It didn't have to go down this way."
Her cold fingers took a grib around his cheeks, squishing them up against his nose. She caught his eyes with her own. He could no longer run. Forced to stare into the madness he had caused. But he refused to fall victum. So he didn't.
He gathered up saliva and sent it off in her direction. She closed her eyes as it exploded on her face. "Bite me." he hissed.
She smiled. "Oh..." laughed. "Oh, you actually did that." with her free hand, she whiped the spit off and opened her eyes. Her black, velvet eyes. Black like the night sky. No, darker. Darker than the blackness from a dreamless night.
Her eyes. They were the true darkness. The darkness from which all evil climbed. Climbed into the closet, under the bed and into the human mind. Here it hid. Waiting for the right moment. Because a real hunter knows when to strike.
And so did she.
She pulled an eyelash upwards, lifting his eyelid. He saw it coming before it happened. Saw her tigthening her grib around the knife. Saw the knife rise towards his eye. Felt it carve into the thin skin.
He screamed. Kept on screaming. Even when she lowered the knife and showed him the cut off eyelid, the screaming didn't stop.
She rolled her eyes and threw the eyelid away. Then she lifted the knife to his face. He closed his eyes. But no more pain were felt. Instead he heard the screech when the knife hammered into the space between two of the bricks behind him. For a moment he felt relieved. But when he saw the smile on her face that feeling was long gone.
Her face approached his in a drastic speed and then her lips engulfted his. They tasted dark. Dark like her eyes. Like his worst nightmare. He wanted to break free but couldn't.
All he could do was watch as her finger ascended up his cheek and stopped as they reached his unprotected eye.
Still with her tongue exploring his mouth, she tuck her fingernail in behind his eye and digged it out. He screamed, but it was as though her tongue absorbed the sound.
She pulled away from him and looked at the eyeball in her palm. Then she looked at him. She smiled. "You wanted me to bite you," licked her mouth. "Right?"
She placed the eyeball between her teeth and pressed them together. One half of the eyeball went into her chewing mouth and the other fell on the bloody tiles.

To be continued...

Keep Calm and Write On.

- Nanna.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Kill your darlings...

... But what if I don't want to?

So for those not aware, I take writing classes and have been doing so since late August 2013. I have known since the very beginning of the course that I would have to write a short story, which would get published along with everyone else's from the writing classes in a short story collection. Now... This is cool. Infact, I am really excited! By Spring I will be a "published"-ish author. But there is one problem... short stories is not my specialty... 

It's not that I don't like writing them, trust me I do, but whenever I do write one I am really proud of it.

Especially the one I have written for the short story collection. It has a very simple plot, but then again it is very mysterious and I love that. Not a lot happens, and that is okay. Or so I thought. 

Apparently it doesn't quiet fit under the theme that my writing teacher gave my class... She loves my story, but says that not enough happens in it.

So here I sit. I have rewritten it, but I am just not happy with the new result. I think it is stupid, and sounds really unnatural and I have to say... I am a bit disgusted by the language. I can usually write really well, but when I am forced to write a way that will make other people happy that talent falls flat.

My teacher told me to "kill my darlings", but I don't think she understands how hard that is to do in a short story... whenever I write a novel I cut away like a crazy person! In my current novel I think I have cut away maybe... 20k words? SO FAR. And I am actually scared that my 103k first draft will become less than 50k words... so as you can see I can easily kill my darlings. But those are the darlings, that I just used as filling. With this short story I really poured my heart into it and made it as perfect as possible, but because it doesn't fit the theme, I had to change almost everything...

That hurts...

I don't know about you guys, but I will:

Keep Calm and Write On.

- Nanna.