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Here is a sneak peak into the first chapter of a new novel idea I am working on. Comments and critique are welcome!

Prologue – The Collector

Four portraits of my prized conquests were neatly hung up on the wall of my study. I sat back smugly in my leather recliner and reflected upon each of them and why is it that I had been so drawn to them. They looked lovely in these pictures, each of them were different but pretty much the same if you were to look deeper. Each one looked as if they could be a model – but that was nothing, modern technology and magical Instagram filters could make any naked mole rat looking girl look like a supermodel on the internet. Add a pout or a flirty wink, maybe a bit of cleavage and you had a goddess on your hands, complete with over a thousand Instagram and Facebook likes. These girls were it, and if you were lucky enough to be a follower, as I am, you could salivate over these faux beauties as they upload multitudes of photos to the masses in order to serve their need for attention and fuel their ego.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not some scraggly, acne-covered, lonely virgin hiding behind my computer in my mothers basement committed to whining over people more beautiful, popular and glamorous than I. I consider myself a mastermind, situated in a penthouse apartment overlooking the upper east side of New York City. I am every bit the suave, handsome, rich, cunning charmer that you read about in those sub-par erotic novels. Not to imply that I am by any means sub-par, I am above average in everything I do, and that includes my conquests. I am a fantasy with a twisted edge.

I rose slowly from my chair, smirked at the portraits, “Time for a new conquest, lets not keep her waiting.”

I was careful to lock the door of my study, it was my sanctuary, where I did my research and tokens from my prizes.

I strolled into my bedroom and gave the overly made-up dark-haired girl in my bed a wry smile, while undoing the belt on my luxurious velvet robe. I evaluated her as I strode over to the king-size bed – she was a ten in the Facebook picture I liked, about a seven right now and definitely a three without the make-up which I had seen when doing some following of the real-life variety. I shook that mental image out of my head as I proceeded to pound her with the force of a hundred stampeding buffalo fleeing the impending doom of a lion attack. Once she was blissfully sedated from the multiple orgasms I had given her, I pulled out a long rod with something attached to the end.

“Feast your eyes on this!”

No, it was not my penis.

“OMG, a selfie-stick!” she exclaimed, stroking it with her slender fingers, “Are you going to video us doing it?”

Her blue, slightly panda-rimmed eyes a la the tears from the orgasms, sparkled with delight.

“Yes,” I lied effortlessly.

“Are you going to upload it? That would so get me Paris or Kim famous,” she said stupidly.

Seriously. Sometimes I actually meet girls like this to find out if they are as air-headed and vapid as they are in their online profiles, only to find out that I am right. It often displeases me to do what I so often have to do, but someone has to get the job done. I climbed off the bed and then noticed the smear of blush, foundation and mascara on my thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. It was then that I snapped and began to mercilessly bludgeon her with the selfie stick. She tried to fight back, screaming and kicking out, but I just held her down and stabbed at her bony body with the stick. The thick sprays of blood oozed out of her body, as did her useless,vacant existence. When she was finally motionless, I threw the now bent-up, human-waste coated selfie stick to the ground and walked back to my study, still naked and covered with the crimson waste. There would be time for clean-up and a long shower later. For now, there was important work to be done. I turned my television on for background noise while I booted up my computer and went to Ashleigh Wentworth – now dead girl’s – Facebook profile page. I enlarged her profile picture and clicked ‘print’. I put on some latex gloves and held up the latest portrait to the light.

“Perfect,” I muttered, and slipped it into a gold embossed frame. I hung it up next to the other four.

Five.

“…And in your latest entertainment news, lovely heiress Charlotte Hale dumped Italian movie star, Joey Mascapone. It was rumoured that they’d just gotten engaged but insiders informed our reporters that it was only a matter of time before the romance ended because of Joey’s gambling and drug addiction.”

I turned around and saw a picture of a gorgeous blonde arm in arm with an oily-haired, olive-skinned, slightly ratty-looking man. He was probably rather handsome once, but like the memes say, ‘meth: not even once’.

“Our reporters have also spotted Charlotte with who appears to be her new beau, Jacques Pierre Antoinne – notable French photographer. Could she have already moved on so soon?”

“And she’s about to move on yet again,” I whispered, urgently opening up Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. In each of the search bars, I typed in Charlotte Hale. I got many hits, but she was obviously the one with the most friends and followers. I added myself to her list of followers. It always amuses me how excited these girls get when they get a new follower, never anticipating that I am about to follow them in reality. I clicked the like button on her Facebook and Instagram profile pictures, and on a couple more that I found arousing, my face lit up by the glare of my laptop screen, I smiled widely. I already found a new conquest.

The Living Dead

It’s like I am constantly living with a raging fire inside my head. A fire that flames and smokes out every good thought, feeling and positive vibe. It cannot be quelled, tamed or simply put out, and it chokes me with the fumes of negativity, apprehension, fear and anxiety until I can’t breathe.

Everyone around me, every situation, every change stokes the flames and makes me feel as if I am about to explode. And I do want to. I want to burn completely and I want it to end. It’s killed the better part of me but I’m still smiling on the outside.

By letting myself be engulfed by the flames, I not only put myself out, I can put the world out… at least for myself anyway.

Retreat

Retreat
Never look back
It’s safer within
Don’t let them in
Deep in your mind
You’ll find out what has died
The root of the suffering
The ache
What will eventually cause you to break
Retreat
Because you gave all that you could
Even when you had nothing left
Even when you got nothing in return
Even when you gave them the reality while they could only afford you an illusion
You’re empty now
Retreat

Reblogged from Street of Dreams…glad I came across this. Really loved reading this 🙂

Street of Dreams

It isn’t Valentine’s day yet, but since it is coming up, I thought I would share one of my favorite blogs of all times. I only wish I  wrote it.

Share this with the girl in your life that reads. It is sure to make her smile.

Date a girl who reads

Girl-Reading1

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see…

View original post 607 more words

Date a Girl Who Reads (A reblog must read).

Passenger

 

I’m working on writing a novel, one that I will hopefully be able to publish. It’s going to be called ‘Passenger’ and is going to be a sort of sci-fi, thriller and romance.


Here is an excerpt from one of the scenes…thoughts, opinions and criticisms are welcome 🙂 

He was drowning in beautiful violet. Was that what death felt like? What it looked like? Like staring groggily into twin spheres of violet with flecks of gold if you gazed long enough. In death, was there supposed to be warmth like the warmth that was coursing through his icy veins at the beck of a foreign touch? Was there supposed to be breath, like the warm breath currently grazing his skin, like the frenzied breaths emanating from his own mouth? In death, wasn’t pulse supposed to vanish? If so, then why was his pounding and racing? Wasn’t feeling supposed to cease? No, because he felt a small hand fit perfectly into his, lacing fingers in between his and squeezing gently. He felt silky skin glide over his own and deeper into the violet abyss he fell. The curtain that framed that abyss was dark as midnight, so dark it appeared blue. He reached out to touch it, but it began to dissolve, slipping through his fingers as fast as the warmth and comfort disappeared. An inky black took over the violet and a woman’s scream of pure terror reverberated through him.

The scene shifted and distorted like a broken film reel and he suddenly found himself looking at an empty room filled with dull orange light of the afternoon sun. A feeling of dread rippled through him, there was something bad waiting here. He looked around but all that was visible was a simple mahogany coffee table with a newspaper kept neatly on top of it. He took slow steps towards it and gripped the newspaper. He stared at it, trying to find an answer. And there it was, in bold red font on the top right hand corner of the paper; the paper was dated three months from now.

It didn’t make any sense, what was he supposed to be seeing? He opened up the paper roughly and threw it down on the table. Once he looked closer he discovered that his death had made the news on page three and it looked like he had taken someone else down with him too. He stared at her portrait in the newspaper, her parents had probably picked it out, it was a graduation photograph in which she was smiling beautifully and he heard her screams over and over in his head. He was frozen again. He had to help whoever was screaming but he couldn’t see anything. It was like being blind or walking in a room with no light source. As if by a cruel trick, the room was suddenly bathed in light and he saw her lifeless body splayed across the floor as though asleep.

 

 

 

Sometimes anime characters say the most inspiring, thought provoking or sweet things…

Yes, of course there is a writer behind their words, but it is still pretty amazing how much we can learn from them.

so here are some of my favourite quotes!

The moment people come to know love, they run the risk of carrying hate.”

– Obito Uchiha, Naruto

“We are humans, not fish. We don’t know what kind of people we truly are until the moment before our deaths. As death comes to embrace you, you will realise what you are. That’s what death is, don’t you think?”

-Itachi Uchiha, Naruto

“Under normal circumstances, humans should have continued to evolve as the greatest creatures upon this earth, but we were actually regressing. A rotten world. Politics, law, education… Was there anybody around who could correct this world? But someone had to do it.”

-Light Yagami, Deathnote

“You know I had a lot of things I wanted to do… I want to be a teacher… I also want to be an astronaut… and also make my own cake shop… I want to go to the sweets bakery and say ‘I want one of everything’… Ohhhh, I wish I could live life five times over. Then I’d be born in five different places, and I’d stuff myself with different food from around the world… I’d live five different lives with five different occupations… and then, for those five times… I’d fall in love with the same person…”

-Orihime Inoue, Bleach

“Listen… In this world, whenever there is light, there are also shadows. As long as the concept of winners exist, there must also be losers. The selfish desire of wanting to maintain peace causes wars and hatred is born to protect love.”

-Madara Uchiha, Naruto

“If I were the rain, that binds together the heavens and the earth, whom in all eternity will never mingle, would I be able to bind two hearts together?”

-Orihime Inoue, Bleach

“I used to always cry and give up… I made many wrong turns… But you… You helped me find the right path… I always chased after you… I wanted to catch up to you… I wanted to walk beside you all the time… I just wanted to be with you… You changed me! Your smile is what saved me! That is why I’m not afraid to die protecting you! Because… I love you…”

-Hinata Hyuuga, Naruto

“There are many types of monsters that scare me: Monsters who cause trouble without showing themselves, monsters who abduct children, monsters who devour dreams, monsters who suck blood… and then, monsters who tell nothing but lies. Lying monsters are a real nuisance: They are much more cunning than others. They pose as humans even though they have no understanding of the human heart; they eat even though they’ve never experienced hunger; they study even though they have no interest in academics; they seek friendship even though they do not know how to love. If I were to encounter such monsters, I would likely be eaten by them… because in truth, I am that monster.”

-L, Deathnote

Some deep stuff…

I’ll post more soon!

The Story of a Girl

The Story of a Girl.

Let me tell you a story
about a girl who knew how it would all end
whose thoughts and dreams were painted in red
as she killed them all off
one by one inside her head
that girl who smiles so sweetly
but acknowledges her dark side completely
you may never know her name
but she walks differently among you who are all the same
her intentions are never veiled
and if you look into her eyes
you will see how you’ve failed
in the weak attempts to change her
and mould her into something to your liking
who she is, is far more mesmerizing and striking
unlike the dull sheep who crave your acceptance
this is the story of a girl who dreams of bringing an end to you
to bring about something new
to end this cycle of uninspired lifestyles and decay
that we put up with day after day

Deceit is in the air…

Some people are such lying, deceitful creatures who assume others are blind to what they truly are. They take for granted everything because they are under the impression that it is owed to them. These kinds of people have a blatant disregard for other people’s feelings, they are disrespectful to those close to them and worst of all, they do not even respect themselves. They dislike being judged by others, yet judge others for the same things that they do. These people are so self-absorbed that there is no way of getting through to them. They keep on repeating their mistakes and then act as if they are some sort of inspiration to others or want people to feel sorry for them because of the ”hardships” that they went through in learning that they had made a mistake. They are so deluded that they believe their wrongdoings in the past have made them a ”stronger person” today…even though what they’re really doing is just an attention-seeking stunt. If confronted, they will attack and demean you. They constantly need their ego’s to be fed, or to be the center of attention. They believe that they are good people, even great… But they are the worst sort of people. 

 
I’ve heard the saying, ”I love hearing a lie when I already know the truth”. Very true, but it also disgusts me when people lie even after you know the truth. It’s like they assume your intelligence level is below theirs and you can’t see through their dirty acts. It’s appalling. It’s disgraceful. It’s shameful.
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Heather E. Wright

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I want a lover I don't have to love

"And the Christians gave me comic books as if I would be scared of burning in hell, well I was already there"

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

The UKZN Bro

Be the swole you want to see in the world.

Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.

Street of Dreams

A literary blog of poet, playwright and essayist Rachael Stanford

Prinze Charming

Connecting the Hopeless Romantic Community Together

CultFit

Form, Flow and Grace

muags

Just words

M. B. Weston's Official Website

The Latest News on Author M. B. Weston

Heather E. Wright

Resources for Writers of All Ages and Teachers, Too.

I want a lover I don't have to love

"And the Christians gave me comic books as if I would be scared of burning in hell, well I was already there"

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.