Thursday, 18 March 2010

Can I get an Amen?

Writer's Block = Broken! Thank you, God!

Seriously, he's way too good to me. :)

So, I have a bit of a horror story started, part of my exercise in expanding my expertise. (hehe!) I thought I would share it with you, because it's not really 'horror' in the horrific sense. More like.. Gothic Fiction. So that's what we'll call it.

Alright, so the title is Angel Park, and I know my non-fantasy was Angel's Jeans, but forgive me, I've had cherubim on my mind. Deal with it, I like the word. And I'll rename the fiction, don't worry about it. I like the contrast between 'angel' and gothic fiction anyway. More ironic.

Now without further ado:

Angel Park


I’m not dead.
The words, harmlessly scrawled onto the wooden bench at Angel Park, have been there for ages. They’ve been painted over in all different colors; white one year, green the next, blue, dark blue, brown, but most recently a dim grey. Somehow, the delicate script has appeared again, despite the smooth paint that covered it completely from sight the day before. Of course, the parents of the children who play in Angel Park say it’s teenage hooligans, but the script is so delicate, so fragile. And a chill like cold metal works its way up their backs, and graffiti seems like an unlikely theory.
Perhaps it’s the weather – dark clouds hang over Angel Park and rain falls like a leaky tap – and perhaps it’s the noise. There are children laughing, but one little girl has scraped her knee on the gravel beneath the swing sets, and her sobs are louder than the other voices in the park. Perhaps it’s the way the raindrops drip off the wrought iron roses of Angel Park’s gate, and perhaps it’s the weight of the tragedy that has recently come to Richwood, casting darkness over the whole city.
Richwood High, the local secondary school, had recently been shocked by its star quarterback, a senior named Craig Jennings, when he had suddenly stopped coming to practices. The student body had been doubly shocked to find that he had spent the time instead drawing – a pursuit he’d never shown any interest in before. Of course, their shock was nothing compared to when it was discovered that the charismatic football star had tried to drown classmate Clair Desda, a mentally handicapped art student, and had ended up putting her in a coma.
The details of the incident haven’t been released, and Craig is now in a mental ward, drugged to his eyeballs, after having pleaded insane. Clair is barely alive, and her parents are considering taking her off life support. And yet, when they take her little sister to Angel Park, trying to return some normalcy to the their lives, they cannot take their eyes from that one, solitary script.
I’m not dead.


Alright, it's my guilty pleasure, writing stuff like this. But it broke my writer's block, so I'm going to keep writing. And no, the whole thing isn't written in present tense (I would get so annoyed), just the beginning scene, and maybe the last. We'll see. XOXO


Make mine pink said...

ooh....scary happenings! Are you going to post more of this?

Bethany Elizabeth said...

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe. Depends on how much I like it. :)