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My Inspiration: Chapter One. |
| Written by O. Caringa | |
| Wednesday, 20 August 2008 | |
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My Inspiration: Chapter One. I pulled the sheet from the typewriter. The feeling of the pulpy sheet felt good against my palm; like an old friend making a short but memorable appearance. Keep writing, I heard a voice say. But I don't know what to write I shot back. It will come, the voice said, just keep writing. What's gonna happen, I wondered. "What should I write about?" Is the voice a friend or an enemy I wondered. I laughed aloud, uncontrollably. I always figured if I heard a voice I'd be freaked out and want to know what it wants. "How can I begin to focus on writing when I have to consider why you're here!"I implored. The voice failed to respond. I wondered if it was a coward. I decided to start writing again, leaving the voice as a memory. I set my fingers in the home keys, stretched my neck, and begin typing a few lines: She was beautiful, but at the same time here features seemed all wrong, like one of Picasso's paintings... "What's the matter you don't like Picasso?" The voice asked, mocking me.. "I just meant to say she was beautiful, but all mixed up, you know like Picasso's paintings, that's all." "I don't need an art lesson. What's all mixed up and wrong right now is your little story." "Well you told to me write, I wrote. What gives?" I chewed on the end of a straw, angrily. O.K, give it another try.
She was ugly, but at the same time I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Something about her horrid features pulled together beautifully, like a Jackson Pollock.
The voice laughed hysterically. "You liked this one, didn't you?" "I laughed because you heard not a word I said! I said no art lessons, and no bad analogies." Now what, I wondered. "You'll never amount to anything, ever. You should right about what a horrible person you are."
"Write it! Tell the world how pathetic you are. A rotten peach core I always said."
She was beautiful, but at the same time all wrong, so I rearranged her features like a Picasso painting, making the features I made ugly beautiful once again
"Go on." "I scrambled her up, and plastered her back together..." "Go on." "And now she's beautiful." "Continue." I pulled the piece of paper from the typewriter, feeling it cut through the palm of my hands. "I'll get this right eventually!" I vowed. "Like I got her right. If it takes me forever."
The voice would hibernate until then, haunting me again until the next time I clicked the key of my typewriter.
I wrote this story for my Dark Interpretations English classes. It's supposed to be about an instance when we've felt possessed. My teacher said she wants atleast five comments from others, so here it is. I appreciate the help guys/
Copyright 2008 O. Caringa |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 20 August 2008 ) |
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