Saturday, March 31, 2012

Some old writing of mine . . .

So I was going through some old writing of mine, and came across this. I'm quite fond of it . . . so I'd thought I'd post it. Enjoy!


There was a loud rap on my window that woke me right up. It was light, basing off the little rays seeping through my curtains, which meant it was still day, and I wondered why in the world whoever was out there would be knocking on my window at this time, when it was even colder than usual.

            I hesitantly snuck across the room, carefully watching my step so I wouldn’t wake anyone, and slowly pulled the curtains aside. There stood Adrian, looking absolutely perfect as always, in a pair of long dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt shoved under a plaid green-and-black-and-white button-up vest, wonderfully fitted to his frame to make him appear thinner, and he wore his usual vans and accessories. There was a bright smile on his face, the whiteness of his teeth glistening off the light of the sun. I chuckled lightly at him, mentally congratulating him for getting onto my balcony for once, and opened the door for him to come in. He lifted me into the air, his hands on my waist, and twirled us around in a full circle.

            “Hey, guess what?!” He asked excitedly, but didn’t wait for me to give an answer. “I finally mastered my fire element and passed my final exam!!” He clapped his hands together happily, and I couldn’t help the swelling of my heart’s joyousness from this news.

            “Why, that’s magnificent!” I exclaimed, and he nodded, his face lighting up even more.

            “I’m so happy.” He declared to me, and wrapped my body in a firm hug. He started by teasingly nibbling my ear, but then his lips tenderly moved their way towards my mouth with extra care. His hands moved along my body and traveled to places they shouldn’t ever go to, with my clothes on or off. My hands gained a mind of their own in reaction to his, and started prying at the buttons of his vest, and his, as if realizing he had similar wants to mine, pulled my red cardigan up and over my head, breaking our kiss for the tiniest moment, but soon we had the same warm energy flowing between us once more. His vest and my cardigan were on the floor, and his black T-shirt soon joined it, along with my bra.

            Adrian’s hands cautiously moved over my bare skin, and he stared at me as if he were surprised of my beauty. He repeated the same words he had after our first kiss, both a prayer and a séance instead of a mere compliment.

            “You’re…You’re amazing.” He drew me closer, like a fisherman bringing in his catch. He was puffing hard, but once his hands were finished exploring the available bare skin, they trailed down to the button on my jeans, and he pulled them off with ease.

            Once all our clothes were tossed casually onto the floor, he pushed me back onto my bed and wrapped me in his warmth. I loved the both the feeling and the scent of his skin, an unusual cinnamon spice coating his normal musk. His kisses became greedier against my mouth, but they were pleasurable, and with each one my happiness was taken to a whole new level.

            From the moment he did it, I knew I wouldn’t have been satisfied if we had done it any other time. Fate had planned it to be today, and that’s exactly when I wanted it to be. No sooner, and no later.

            For the rest of the night (or day, if you want to be technical) he held me and whispered, “You’re amazing, little Moroi, so so amazing,” in between each kiss. Every time he did, I knew that little nickname had grown on me. If one day he came up to me and called me Alicia for the rest of our life together, I would be disappointed. Just like I would never be satisfied with anyone but Adrian being here with me, taking my virginity with the utmost care, and holding me as cautiously as he would with a new-born baby, but still with the blissful energy. I felt amazing and incredible and wonderful and marvelous and just fantastic.

           

            It was the best thing waking up at the end of the night and feeling him nested next to me. He had obviously woken up before me, because my head was in his lap, which was covered with the jeans he’d been wearing earlier (and was wearing again), and my blanket was covering my still naked body. His fingers were playing in my hair, tangling themselves into a tighter knot in the auburn strings, and he looked down fondly at my face, a pure smile on his face. When he watched my eyes flutter open, he smiled more, and untangled his fingers from my hair.

            “Hello beautiful,” he whispered, his voice coated with his love and tender affection for me. I returned his smile, and started to sit up, dragging the blanket with me to keep myself hidden beneath it. I tore my eyes away from Adrian’s flawless face, and let them wander around the room. Everything was as we’d left it, with his shirt and the rest of my clothes in a pile, and the curtains open, revealing a starry night sky. My gaze made it over to my alarm clock when my eyes widened, realizing I was late for my first two classes.

            Adrian’s hands caught my shoulder before I could bolt, and gently massaged the spot he had grabbed as he chuckled lightly. “It’s okay, little Moroi, I called the office while you were sleeping to tell them you weren’t feeling well enough to leave bed, so that’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the day.” His words relaxed me, as did his touch, and I leaned back into his bare chest. He pressed something soft—his lips?—into my hair and slipped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap. “How are you feeling?” He asked nonchalantly, and I smirked at his casual question.

            “Absolutely perfect.”

Idk. I just really liked that scene. There was a certain perfectness in it that I've never caught anywhere else.

Btw, that was also last year's (2011) NaNoWriMo . . . Or at least a piece of it. Most elements of it were good, the setting, some people, the classes, but things like the main character and storyline were screwed. I honestly think my first-ever story had a better storyline--and that's saying something. Speaking of my first story ever--I've been thinking of rewriting that one if I ever get another story finished. It'd definitely be cool--with extra high chances of getting published with it's content . . .

Gifts of the People

I think everyone has a gift, a talent, a need to share themself with the world and let themself shine. For some, it is hard to meet their dreams, stealing as many years from time as they can to hone their gift, until the right moment comes and they are finally forced into making the star in theirself glimmer in the breathtaking spot light. For others, it comes differently. Some rush into it, sure of their dream from the moment they take their first breath. I'm a little like that, I suppose you might say.

As a young teenage writer, I know life has been kind to me. I have a room over my head, two supporting parents (when they aren't yelling at me because I did some wrong), ambition, and as much as I try to be modest about it, talent. I many elements in my life that make me who I am--which I haven't really figured out yet. My friends are always telling me what I am: caring, beautiful, fashionable . . . but I don't know how to believe that. Yet. I think someday, maybe someday, I just have to proove to myself that I am all those things, like I've already made them believe.

Anyways, when I was younger, I didn't have the luxury of writing like I do these days. I had music--I was singing before I could talk--and art. Creativity and imagination as a bonus. Maybe plop a romance in there that I didn't understand. I honestly thought I was going to be a famous singer like Taylor Swift someday. She was my superstar--my role model. But learning of her music is also what caused me to drift farther and farther from my at-home family, the seperation still remaining today. Not the point here. Moving on . . .

But as I said, I did have creativity and imagination, like most children. Like most of my friends, I was tagged in Talented and Gifted, and at recess we'd have live role plays where we'd love and fight bad guys. It was our life. Most of all, it was real.

Time skip, and we're in fifth grade. I've started my first book, inspired after being introduced to the realm of young adult books. I never did finish that book, but it was a good start. I can now see how that led into the development I have today.

Skip another year, and I'm being homeschooled online because I'm so smart the school couldn't keep up with me. I've started another book, having abandoned the other, and it takes me months to get 5,000 words before I finally get stuck and start another, playing with the greek gods like I'd always loved. I found the school NaNoWriMo club--a basic writer's club for anyone who wrote books. You didn't have to participate in the activity. You just had to write.

Anyways, the support of all the people in the club is what helped me finish that third book. Novella, if you wanna classify it correctly, but I'd never been so proud. 18,000 words in one book, and I was finished, already set up for sequel and gaining more skill and development with every word I wrote.

Fast forward to today, and I actually haven't finished another piece, unless you count the small novelette I did in January. But I do have good starts on every piece I have saved either on my jump drive or my computer--and I plan to finish something before the end of June. Before the end of the school year.

If there's one thing that I have learned from my journey of talent, it's that convincing the world you have talent is the easy part. Convincing yourself, and learning to stand on your own two feet is the hard part. I have myself pretty convinced--and I truthfully must say I have no doubts that I'll be published someday. That maybe one day--I'll be drinking coffee eww, no, not coffee, flavored water with Cynthia Hand and Richelle Mead getting ready for a tour or something because I'm a bestseller. Why a bestseller, when I'm supposedly so modest? It's not for the fame, I'll tell you that. It's to have touched someone's life--someone's heart--so deeply that they cried or laughed. That they felt for the characters.

Another thing: Don't deny yourself, your heart, from doing what it needs to. You'll become stronger just by leading yourself on the right path--and not letting anyone else choose for you. That's how you'll win. That's how everyone will win.

Love you <3
Cassandra Bloom, the someday bestselling author