The only place that I really have ever posted was on ot, because I’m kind of a shy person, and I know that you can post pretty much anything you want there without being booted.
But I wanted to post a book i’v been writing, and I’m pretty sure no one on ot will give me anything serious about it.
So, I know this post has nothing to do with art or anything, but I hope that you will not be too negative about it.
I would like to post a little of it every week. It is kind of a short story, and I’v never let anyone read any of it, so I’m not really sure how good it is. I just want some honest opinions before I embarrass myself in front of people I can actually see.
Some feedback on this would be awesome.
Well, No one said not to, so I assume that I can post my book.
It is not really a book, more like a short story, kind of a sample of the longer books I’m writing.
This is actually based on a dream i had a couple of years ago, but I did add a lot to make it more interesting.
I have not worked a whole lot on it, so I know that it is not really great, but I really hope that it will be enjoyable for someone.
I would be really thankful for some comments. It would be really nice to know what you think.
I do not believe that dreams have any meaning when it comes to real life, but sometimes I have a feeling they might be slightly more then just random images produced by our subconscious mind. I automatically dismiss anything that i do not fully understand as something that doesn’t mean anything at all, so I figure that they could actually mean something, even if it is just to teach us something.
About a year ago, I had a rather interesting and disturbing dream. It made me think a lot about my life, and what I am living it for. I never really think about these things, and often take it for granted.
I woke up, my pillow soaked with my tears. I got up immediately, and retrieved a pin and notebook from my desk, and sat down to write out my dream before it escaped my memory.
I am not really sure where my dream began, but I found myself standing in the middle of a white fog. the ground was gray and perfectly smooth. I could not see farther then about three yards in any direction. Despite the dreary surroundings, it did not seem odd at all that I should be there. It seemed that I had a reason for being there. A reason I couldn’t recall.
As I stood there, I started to see figures in the fog. At first I couldn’t make out who they were, but it didn’t bother me, because it seemed now that I had been waiting for them. As they came closer, I could see who they were. And I knew them. They were all the people that I cared most for in the world.
First came my brother, he had come with me through all the toughest parts of my life. All the times I had wanted to give up. he had been there, right through them all, holding my hand, and holding me up. Of all the people in my life, he was the one I loved the most.
Then my little sister. I had always fought with her about anything and everything. Sometimes I could even say I hated her. There had been times when I would have surely killed her, if she hadn’t been faster on her feet. But she was close to me. In the end, I could always count on her to be company when I needed someone to just sit quietly with. I had never told her how much she had meant to me. Never said I loved her. And now I wished I had. I knew somehow that I would never get the chance again. I had a deep sadness in the pit of my stomach, that I couldn’t shake.
Next came a girl I had known for years. She was three years older then me, and we had not always been friends. We had hated each other at one point, but she had started dating my brother, which made us interact more and more. I had a lot in common with her, and before long I went to her more then I went to my brother.
And then someone that puzzled me. A girl I had not seen in years. She had been one of my only friends as a child, I had not realized until that moment that I missed her. I had not even thought about her in years, but at that moment, all I wanted to do, was to talk to my childhood friend again, to hug her, and tell her about life, to just walk and talk with her again. But the sadness inside me grew, as I knew that I would never get back the innocent friendship we had shared.
Last came Ben. when I had met this boy, I had been 13, and I had thought he was 9. He was small and skinny, and immature. I was very surprised to find that he was actually almost a month older then me. he was annoying and bothersome, he pulled my hair and stole my things, but somehow he crept into my heart without my permission. Stealing a little piece of it for himself. By now, (two years later) he has grown more then a foot taller, and now I spent most of my time with him. He was very slowly but surely taking over my heart. I hated this. The only person that had ever meant that much to me was my brother, and growing up with him, it never bothered me how much control he had over me for it. Having some boy come in ant take what had taken me 13 years to give to someone else in only two, scared me a little. I had always believed that i was my own. That I could give and take back myself as I pleased, but I couldn’t help it with him.
This is all I have time for at the moment. I know that this is not great, but I hope to become better, and I feel that if I don’t start sharing my writing now, then I won’t ever, and I have only been working on this a couple of weeks, so its not the best, but I do hope that whoever takes time to read it likes it. Please comment and tell me what you think of it, and if anyone likes it, I will post the rest when I have time.