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His Fobidden Love Parts One and Two
He walked along the side of the road, filled only with bitterness and contempt. He barely even noticed the cars flying by him dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, both black. Even if he had noticed, he couldn’t have cared less; the cars could hit him for all the difference it made. Suddenly, he heard someone calling his name in a lilting voice. This voice was the only one that could possibly distract him from his morbidity now. “Hey, sis,” he responded. Alright, she wasn’t technically his sister but she was his best friend in the world and he called her his sister because that was the only way to hide his true feelings for her. “Hey, bro, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” As he looked into her gleaming chestnut-colored eyes, he was disgusted with himself; was he really willing to hurt her so much in order to escape a little pain of his own? “I just decided to come for a walk,” he said. “Well, do you mind if I join you?” He said that he would love her company, and so the two continued walking along in the frigid night air. As they walked, he thought about all they had been through together: her loss of family and near death experience, and his traumatic past through which she was with him every step of the way. She noticed his involuntary shudder at the memories which haunted him to this day. “You ok?” she asked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded, not willing to tell her why he was shaking. As he had guessed she would, she assumed that he was shivering because of the cold and let the subject drop. After about ten more minutes of walking, she reached out and took his arm, using it to gently pull him to a stop. “What’s wrong sweetie?” he asked. Anytime he thought she was upset, he always called her sweetie, and she didn’t mind because she believed he thought of her as a sister. Plus, it always calmed her down so what could she really say about it? She looked at him, through him, trying to figure out what was really going on. That was an annoying part of her; she could always tell if he was hiding something from her. As annoying as it was, he had to admit he liked it because it made him feel like she really cared about him. Apparently, she found nothing though because she merely sighed and watched the billowing cloud escape from her lips. Cautiously, she extended her arms toward him, asking for a hug. He willingly obliged and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her. He heard her say softly, “I love you bro.” Even though he was happy that she loved him, he could not help but feel sad that she did not see him in the same light that he saw her. “I love you too sis.” Her shudder brought the coldness to his mind for what seemed like the first time. “Let’s go home now, ok?” he asked. Although it was apparent to him immediately that she was torn, the instinct to comfort him and her discomfort warring with each other, she nodded and allowed him to turn and lead them towards her house. Having almost six years with her as his best friend, he knew that she wanted to say something but was keeping it to herself instead. Normally, he would’ve asked what was going on, but he thought he knew. Judging by the dissatisfied set of her lips and the pure hatred burning in her eyes, he was almost positive that she was thinking about her father again. He had left her, her mother, and her brother over the summer and things just kept going south from there. “It’s going to be ok sweetie,” he said. She looked at him, smiled, and gave him a hug.
Once they arrived back at her house, she let them in with her key and they felt the instant relief of the heater. “Hi mom,” they said simultaneously. Her mom walked around the corner, smiling, and hugged them both. Even though he normally felt weird when adults gave him hugs, he considered her family and therefore didn’t mind at all. After talking with her mom for a while, she decided to go upstairs to her room and asked her mom if that was ok. She, of course, said that was fine. They climbed the flight of stairs and entered her bright pink room. He almost moaned at the site of Bill’s picture next to her bed. Bill was her ex-boyfriend with whom she still claimed to be in love with. Mostly to hide his discomfort with Bill’s picture, he tossed her jacket to her saying, “Put this on, you’re still shivering.” He could see the playful gleam in her eyes that usually ended in her defiance, so he hardened his features and tone of voice as he repeated the direction. Defeated, she followed what he said. After the deep blue jacket was on, she jumped on her bed, reached past Bill’s picture, and turned her I-home on. Her favorite song, “Bella’s Lullaby,” began playing softly. She collapsed onto her pillows, gazing up at him as she spoke, “I’m really tired right now. Do you mind if I go to sleep?” “Sure thing sis,” he said. Despite his feelings for her, he felt no stir of desire at all as she patted the bed next to her; a clear invite to lay down with her. “I need someone with me right now, are you ok with that?” she asked. Instead of answering out loud, he slipped off his dirt-encrusted shoes and gently sat down next to her, spreading his arms to allow her to be closer to him if she wished. She smiled and folded herself in his arms, and the two of them laid down. Within minutes, she was fast asleep. As he realized this, he felt content because she trusted him enough to allow him to be alone with her when she was at her weakest. An hour later, her mom walked in to make sure they were ok. Seeing the two of them on her daughter’s bed, she merely smiled at him and walked out. He resumed his thinking, always being careful not to move an inch so that she would not be awakened by the motion. At 10:45, nearly two and a half hours after she fell asleep, her eyes slowly opened. She looked up at him and smiled, asking if he slept at all. “No,” he responded, “I didn’t want to accidentally wake you.” She laughed and said that he worried too much, which was sort of their personal joke; he always worried too much and she never worried enough. They both got off of her bed and went downstairs where her mother was watching TV. Since it was late, he decided that he needed to go home. Her mom gave him a ride home, and she rode with them. At his house, she got out and walked with him to his front door, despite his protests about it being too cold for her to be outside. Once they were there, she gave him a huge hug and said, “I love you.” As she turned to walk back to her car, he called out, “I love you too,” and then went inside.
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This article has 22 comments.
This is so awesome and very captivating.I haven't read the rest, but I'm looking forward to it.
P.S.
Will you read my stories and rate them please?ThnX:)
speachless is the perfect word here lostangel.
beautiful beautiful beautiful! 10 times over.
this is just...aw. there are no words.
-Jata-
A few *major* grammar/syntax errors:
He barely even noticed the cars flying by him dressed in shorts and a t-shirt,"
It sounds like the cars are dressed in shorts and t-shirts and he isn't noticing them. Of course we know the truth, but it's always better not to make mistakes like this because it makes for a good chuckle, and breaks the somber mood you were trying to create.
"Even if he had noticed, he couldn’t have cared less; the cars could hit him for all the difference it made."
This is repetitive; you already said "couldn't have cared less," and by adding "for all the difference it made" makes it wordy.
It is advised to say things with the bare minimum you can without being wordy; that is, say what you need to say and stick to the point. Add a good amount of detail, of course, but if a point can be portrayed without adding more, generally those are unneeded words.
Also, you do a lot of "telling." If you'll kindly pick up a bestseller (other than Twilight, please) from a writer who has written a good many novels, who wasn't a random one-hit wonder, you'll notice that the writers generally "Show you" rather than tell you.
While it's nice to have a conversation, a story can be too conversational. While reading, I felt kinda like the speaker was rambling on... I would prefer to be shown things, not just told by the narrator. It's always stronger in a story if you can *show* your story, don't just tell us. If you need further elaboration, feel free to send me a message.
Also... and you can take this comment or leave it, but if I found my daughter in bed with a boy, I wouldn't just smile and walk away. "Oh la dee da they won't do anything." Perhaps it's just because I come from a paranoid family, but it is incredibly rare and kinda broke my logic while reading it. You could take this as just my opinion-- it's your story-- but generally things like that are a no-no in reality, and when I'm reading a story, I don't want the logic to be broken... I don't want to be thrust out of the story, because I read to escape, not to be reminded. While I tried to just sit back and accept that maybe you know people like that or that's common in your reality, it definitely isn't common in the reality I know, so maybe consider that.
Other than that, I think you have a lot of potential. I hope you can get use of my comments; I tried not to be harsh. I hope you can appreciate and benefit from them; if not, you are free to ignore me. =P
Take care! Thanks for the read. =)
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