Story Writing: Attempt 6

The tension was palpable as they sat across from each other. The others around the table had their noses buried in their books and were oblivious to these two, waiting to tear each other’s clothes off of each other.
Jeremy had seen her around. They took a couple of the same classes and she was the quiet, reserved type, he assumed. She always walked around with that denim sling bag of hers and a notebook in one hand with a pencil wedged in its spiral binding. Jeremy went out of his way to seat himself close enough to peek into her notebook one day to discover that she was quite the artist. And soon enough, he found that her name was Melanie.
Melanie was no idiot herself. She was aware of this curious creature silently watching her. She wasn’t particularly bothered albeit rather flattered that another human should show even the slightest shard of interest in her. Melanie herself wasn’t the sociable type. She had just a best friend, Carla, who was the definition of a socialite, which caused Melanie to spend a lot of time by herself, whenever Carla was off drinking and eating out with her friends. Which was a lot.
The two of them slowly began to notice the other more and more. Their grades were near equal – with either of them holding the top score in the class and the other very closely the second. But they never spoke. Melanie was always the first to leave the class and Jeremy wouldn’t see her again until he visited the library. Which was something he often wished he had known sooner.
Melanie seemed to spend a tiring amount of time in the library although it was anything but tiring to her. Melanie loved the library. The smell of numerous books and the silence which was interrupted only by the turning of pages every now and then brought an inexplicable sense of calm and peace to her. it look her less than three hours to finish a novel and she had unconsciously made it her mission to read every interesting book in the library.
But today was different. Today, she sat across from Jeremy watching his gaze pierce into hers. Today, her eyes barely glanced over a sentence in the book her hands held before her. Today, she felt her insides twist as Jeremy slowly smiled, tempting her unfathomably. This was madness, she told herself. She barely knew this guy and she was lusting after him. She knew she could have him right there on that table without giving a damn about who would look. She knew he wanted her at least as much, if not more, as she wanted him. But this is madness, she repeated to herself. Unsure on what to think of this, she decided to first clear her head and proceeded to close her book and leave the table.
She walked to the quieter side of the library – the mezzanine with the endless rows of heavy bookshelves holding research and whatnot that no one ever paid a visit. Melanie often sat hidden between these rows and read. She was half aware of why she was here. She was being stupid, she told herself and turned around to make her way to her next class. And sure enough, Jeremy stood at the end of that row, not entirely sharing her surprise. In the next few seconds, Melanie found herself with her back against a bookshelf, her hands being held at the wrist, above her head and Jeremy’s entire frame pressing her up against the books while his tongue invaded her mouth.
Melanie simply kissed him back. She wanted him and she was getting him. Her book had dropped to the floor and Melanie freed her arms to put her fingers through Jeremy’s hair. Jeremy put one hand on her back and pulled her close and let his other hand wander beneath her shirt.Their bodies entangled and dropped to the floor, Melanie propped up on Jeremy’s knees, enjoying what his fingers accomplished beneath her skirt. Her body soon convulsed over his, satisfied by his handiwork and her mouth stopped kissing his to take short, sharp breaths.
Jeremy smiled to himself and stroked Melanie’s back as she lay on him, her face buried in his shoulders. They were lying on the floor now, she atop him, one hand holding her head as he kissed her hair.
“Hi, I’m Jeremy”, he said, sitting up again, Melanie still in his arms.
“Mel- Melanie”, she managed to say between breaths.
“You wanna… you know, do this again sometime? Maybe at my place? Or yours?”
Melanie laughed. “Yeah,” she was still panting. “That sounds good.”

Poetry Writing: Attempt 5


Look nearby, there’s a story of a man who traveled the world seeking gold, not knowing his backyard was abundant with it.

And so he traveled, over valleys and hills, through rain and snow, bearing heat and cold, until he returned home exhausted.

The beauty he had abandoned stood at the doorway, her look questioning his decisions. “Have you finally found it?” asked she.

“Nay.” replied he, with sorrow in his eyes. He walked forward, hoping to be embraced, for it had been many a day since he felt love.

But the laconic figure walked away. He staggered behind her, grasping for the frill of her dress but she just seemed to be getting farther away from him.

Everything he wanted evaded him. But what was it, exactly, that he wanted? Riches? Or love?

Where was the gold, that he so relentlessly searched? Where were the riches that left him despondent, reduced to a derisory amalgam?

And then he saw it. All he needed was right before him. With one final burst of ardor he reached for her arm and stopped her in her tracks.

“Forgive me, my love!” he pleaded. “You are all I need. You are more to me than all the gold on this Earth. You are my world. I will never leave again.”

She wasn’t amenable, but his eyes seemed to pierce into hers. “I do not believe you” she said, but stayed in his arms.

“I promise.” said he and he kissed like it was the first time. Her body betrayed her intentions as she gave into the embrace and pulled him closer.

There’s a story of a man who traveled the world seeking gold, never found it and returned, only to decide that love was far greater than anything gold would bring him.

I want to dance with you.

slow dance

I want to dance with you.

I want slow piano music in the background. I want my pretty dress to flow as you sway me. I want to feel your arm around me. I want to rest my head on your suit vest. I want to feel the music flow in our every move. I want our heartbeats to synchronize.

I want to see your eyes glow in the dim lights. I want you to move me closer to you as we gently move. I want to see you smile at me and only me. I want to hear you say that I look beautiful. I want to be able to smell the cologne on you. I want to smile back at you. I want to feel my heart skip a beat when you place your cheek on my hair.

I don’t care if others see us. I don’t care if it’s raining outside. I don’t care if the music threatens to cease. I don’t care that these heels will make my feet hurt later. I don’t care that my mouth hurts from constantly grinning at you, because I know yours hurts for the same reason too, and neither of us want to stop.

I want to kiss you. I want to feel the spark from when you kiss me longer than I intended to kiss you. I want to move closer into your arms. I want to feel your love. I want you to feel my love for you.

I want to dance with you.

More music.

So, I know I have my exams going on but I had some free time and so uploaded two more song covers onto Soundcloud. The links to them are as follows:

1. Adele – Someone like you: Just a short cover, the first verse and chorus.

2. Passenger – Let her go: Again, no THE entire song. But this time I just eliminated the last time the chorus is sung.

Enjoy. ^__^

Story writing: Attempt 1.


She blinked in the darkness, her senses heightened for any sign of adversaries. She heard shifting footsteps in the distance. An exhausted sigh escaped her as she turned away from the noise. She had no strength left to fight right then. Not like she had a choice, though. But she stalled as long as possible. Her limbs ached from carrying the heavy rifle, her legs ached from all the running away, her lungs hurt from always panting so hard and her eyes craved the light of day.

She ran away one last time, hoping to rest awhile and maybe revive some her lost energy. Her throat was parched but she ignored it as she made her way up a flight of stairs, aware of the diminishing sound of footsteps. She found a fresh stash of supplies on the fourth floor and walked to the box that had it’s lid slightly ajar. She sat down near the box and exhaled loudly.

Whilst slowly loading her rifle with fresh ammunition, she stared down at herself. She was covered in dirt, filth and gunpowder. Her feet paraded a tattered pair of converse and her long tousled hair decorated her head in all their shabby glory.

Ignoring all of this, she continued to load her weapon- a mundane process which she had repeated countless times in the past few days. Once again, she heard footsteps and she started. The room in which she hid had one door and no windows and running outside didn’t seem like a very bright idea right then. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. She mused over the possibility of her bloody end. But she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

She staggered to her feet and clicked her rifle back. She stared into the emptiness of the sordid, dull room, waiting for whoever or whatever was coming. A large hand reached out of nowhere and covered her mouth. A second hand, followed by an arm wrapped itself around her. She let out a muffled scream, wriggling as she did. her rifle fell to the floor, and all her strength dampened into the grip around her. A gunshot fired from the darkness, violently shaking her and the next moment, whatever had held her loosened it’s hold and crumpled to a heap on the floor near her feet. The entire process lasted a little less than a minute.

Frantic with fear, she swivelled around as she stepped away to pick up her rifle. A man lay on the ground where she had been standing, dark blood flowing out of a gunshot wound in his skull. Adrenaline rushed through her a second time when she heard a voice in the dark speak her name. She had been conditioned to remain silent in times of such sudden panic. Screaming would prove to be a fatal reaction. So she aimed her rifle in the direction of the voice and stood against a wall, peering into the dark once more, ready to fire. The voice spoke again.

“Allie, it’s just me, Nate.” came the familiar tone of a friend.

Nate stood a few feet away from her, his hands in the air, a gun in his right hand and a rifle slung across his torso. They stood silent and motionless for a few moments before Allie finally dropped her stance, breathing heavily, relief flooding through her. She ran into Nate’s arms, enveloping him in a deep hug, which he duly returned.

She stepped away and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut short by a series of gunshots fired from an unknown location that lasted exactly seven seconds. It was a sign. It was the sign. The sign that everyone had been waiting for since what seemed like time unmemorable. Allie and Nate ran into the corridor, their rifles fully loaded, exposing themselves to the pestilence that walked around them.

Allie saw familiar faces on every balcony of the horseshoe shaped building. So many of them had survived the trials and trauma. So many of them, just like Allie, smiled on seeing their comrades and friends. So many of them, waiting for this ordeal to end. And now it finally would. They had made it to the end. It would be over soon. Soon, they would be free.

As planned, the enemy was surrounded. Clicking back their rifles one last time, the armada of warriors fired, finishing the battle down to every last foe. Twenty minutes later, they emerged victorious. The sky showed the beginning of a new dawn, an orange streak across the sky. Friends reunited, some mourned over the death of others and some helped the injured survivors. But it was over. They were free now.

“It’s over…” Allie exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Nate replied, taking her hand in his, “Yeah, it is.” He smiled at her and she returned it rather weakly, but genuinely.

A large crowd was waiting to cheer for them as they exited the building.

{This is basically my first attempt at writing a story which I’m ready to make public. The rest of them were all typed and duly deleted with the passage of time. Hopefully, that will not happen anymore.}