I absolutely adore writing.
It's one of my personal pastimes and endeavors, and I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. It's how I express myself, hell, it's the only way I communicate with others without seeming like a total fool. Life without writing would be very miserable for me, and I couldn't see myself doing anything besides sitting at my desk typing away in word. Is that sad? I dunno.
I've decided, after much consideration, to share some of my literature and occasional doodle with you all
I'll introduce you to one story I wrote 2 years ago for my schools Creative Writing Club. It was supposed to be a short story, but because of my inability to write anything shorter than eight pages it was longer than it should have been. Still, it was this story that probably convinced the leaders of the group to sign me up as a councilor for the next year.
There are spelling mistakes. Just warning you right now.
What i'm posting now is from my FictionPress account, and most of my content on that is unedited. Even though the major typo's have been cleared out some maybe still linger within the pages. Be warned.
When a high flying baseball smacks high school baseball player Jacob right in the temple, he awakens with amnesia to find out that he's in a strange place called Memory Lane, and that he's hopelessly lost deep inside his own psyche.
Also, here's a poem I wrote that my friend was praising like no other (I have no idea why.)
Do you remember when your father used to build treehouses for you?
Note that the above is a vent poem, which I wrote when I was extremely angry with my father.
This post has been edited by Shada: 06 July 2012 - 06:31 PM