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Arius

Undying Light

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ok, so this is a story i wrote last night (litterally... 6:00PM-1:30AM... so many edits >.<). there is a writing get together thing at one of the local colleges and our submitted work is review by like, 20 professors and then read to the entire group (teachers and students) and discussed, with us present! super sweet in my opinion. and there's prizes for stories too. i thought long and hard on what i wanted it to be about. basically I came up with 3 things: 1. a teenage romance (i love em) 2. glowsticking as an escape from the real world for awhile and 3. to me, glowsticking made something click inside me, something that i was missing for a long time. this story shows those things. I *think* this is the final copy i'm gonna send in (i've writen so much, so many MANY different versions), so any grammer/spelling stuff is appreciated too.

 

it's long (10 pages in word with 11 font) but that's the limit for the festival thing. it'd probibly be 15-20 if i had my way >.< i'm gonna add more later, not for the festival.

 

COMMENTS AND QUESTIONS ARE WELCOMED!!! JUST PLEASE NO HATING ON ME, ALOT OF THIS IS MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION AND WHATNOT!!!

 

She shut her locker, no longer able to look at the brightly colored books or her own reflection in the mirror. Sighing, she leaned her head against the metal exterior, her crouched position rather odd to anyone who saw her. It didn’t really matter who saw her though because it wouldn’t change a thing. Standing up, she pulled her book bag over her shoulder and moved out into the sea that flowed towards the exit. The final bell had rung about ten minutes before and yet the halls were still clogged with activity. As she was walking through the open air of the commons, a voice called out, “Bailey! Wait up!†She turned, her dusky chestnut hair flowing around her in a wide circle. Her eyes were slightly bored, or perhaps simply null of any emotion. Even the sight of her boyfriend smiling as he approached her didn’t change that fact.

 

Finally catching up to her, he flashed a slightly toothy smile before leaning in and pecking her on the cheek. She assumed if felt cold to him, just the same as it did to her. He leaned back to stand up to his full 6’ height, a small look of concern on his face before he smiled again and questioned, “How was your day, babe?â€

 

She gave him a small shrug and turned towards the exit. He fell in step with her as she said, “It was alright, Eli.†Her less than happy answer caused Eli to frown. That had been happening more and more since their junior year of school had started. Some kids have problems adjusting to change, or even starting a new school year. As long as Eli could remember however, Bailey had always been happy and excited for school and her future. That had change however, as her emotionless actions shone clearly.

 

They made their way out of the building, passing through the metal detectors in silence. Eli had gotten through first and politely waited for her out by the flagpole, in the cold January wind. She followed out a minute later, and much to Eli’s dismay, her indigo eyes were downcast to the ground. At one point she would have skipped up to him to give him a kiss, her eyes full of stars. Now however, it was all he could do to slip his hand around her little finger anytime they walked together and all she could do to not slap it away. He held her finger as such now, turning to the music wing of the school’s parking lot. That was where they parked, day in and day out, right at 7:00 sharp. Eli was happy some things stayed the same this year.

 

Upon reaching their cars, they separated to put their bags away. Eli walked around to her driver’s side of the car. Bailey had put her key in the door and had turned it. That’s as far as she got before a far off look had crossed her face and her head had slowly tilted to lean against the window of her mom’s minivan. Fog appeared on the glass each time she breathed out, almost like a glimpse into her mind. A hand appeared on her shoulder and she flinched at its touch. Bailey raised her head to glance into Eli’s eyes. They were worried and she hated that she was the cause of it. Tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away with a prayer that Eli hadn’t noticed. He had however and his arms wrapped around her, placing her head on his shoulder. His hand stroked her hair, patiently waiting and trying to give her all the support his heart had for her. She pulled away softly and Eli held her at arms length, looking caringly into her eyes. He was about to speak when she cut in, saying, “I’m so sorry, Eli… I just… I don’t understand anymore.†The tears now flowed freely as she took a step away and out of his grip.

 

His heart cried to her and she knew it. She couldn’t believe what she was doing to him after everything he had done for her. He never gave up, even when he should have long ago, and even now he pulled her back into his embrace. His lips met hers in a warm kiss that made her feel her first feeling all day long: passion. She loved him. She didn’t know how she couldn’t with all he had done for her and been through with her. Maybe that was the problem, how every time he kissed her a second time, her stomach acid found a new way to make her nauseous. Before the third she couldn’t bear it any longer and would turn her head away, as she did now. His lips found her cheek, cold and lifeless to his touch. He took a step back, rubbing her arms with his hands. He looked down to her 5’6†face and whispered, “I love you… please don’t forget that.â€

 

She nodded slowly and whispered it back. She meant it too, she thought. He went back to his truck, got in and revved up the engine. He pulled out before Bailey had gotten into her own van, passing by her and blowing a kiss before cruising off. Finally opening her car door, she slid onto the driver’s seat and put her bag on the next seat over. The keys slid into the ignition on their own, as they did every day, and her forehead once again, as every day, rested on her steering wheel as she breathed in and out. “My mind is going to explode,†she murmured to herself, “I need an escape.â€

She turned the key. Right away her CD player clicked into action and the beats of techno and rave coursed through her. The bass shook every cell in her body and she was finally physically able to take a deep breath and cease her raining eyes. As the song continued, she put the car into drive and slid out of the parking lot. This was what she lived for. It’s what held her grounded. In those moments, nothing else matter: just the synthetic noise that gave her warring mind a temporary peace.

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As soon as the engine revolved its last time, and the key slid from the ignition, Bailey’s lungs ceased to work once again. She needed to run inside her home, lock herself in her lockless room, and escape once again. It was all she could do to stay above water. As she slid out of her car and walked to the front door, her step was in time with the song in her head. It was pure electronic impatience that drove her to swing her bag as she ran around the other car in the garage and through the door. She slammed it behind her, her eyes rolling up into her skull as she leaned back against it. Her book bag dropped to the floor and she grabbed her head as if in pain. She slumped to the floor, cowering in a pain that only she could sense. Her mother entered the room, unaware of what was happening.

 

The woman of 50 was tired, tired of a daughter she didn’t understand. No matter what she tried, nothing connected with her daughter and she was doing all she could to be a support vessel. The smile she always wore when Bailey got home was falsely plastered there, as always, but dropped as soon as she saw her daughter. She froze in place. This was a new tactic and one her mother was already tired of. The small moan that emitted from her daughter’s lips cracked the older woman’s shell and she rushed over to her, placing a hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Bailey…†her mother cooed, fear on her tongue, “Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong…â€

 

Bailey just sat there, clutching her head. Her mother’s words only caused her body to ache, tensing up to tear through the building and away in her cave. Finally the shaking on her shoulder was too much and her legs flared, propelling her along. It was a moment before she realized that the noise she was hearing was her own screams. Running up the 12 stairs three at a time, she ran the last of the steps to her room. No more than one second within and the door was shut, a dresser pushed in front, and her IPod Touch was starting up her favorite playlist. Her overly large speakers were only inches from her head as she stood there, hugging herself in anticipation. Finally it hit, the first drum hit knocked her over onto her nearby bed. Bailey slid herself up to her pillow and crawled under the covers, the pounding bass putting her to sleep almost immediately: the same routine that had gone on for the past five months, each and every day after school.

 

She woke several hours later, her LED clock showing 9:58 with the little circle describing PM. Her playlist had long ended, but her painful mind remained at ease. It always did in the silence of the night. She cracked open her door, walking softly back to the kitchen to retrieve her bag. Her mother was at the table, paying bills, when she entered. Setting her pen down, her mother tried to say something but struggled. The words had caught when she had seen her daughter in the full light, unsure of what to say, and only managed to stutter out, “Please eat something.†Bailey nodded and picked up her bag, grabbing an apple before heading back to her room. She paused a moment before passing her mother, and unlike the past months, she leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek. Both of their faces flushed, and neither could look at the other as Bailey quickly ascended to her room once more.

 

Her room light remained off as she entered and closed the door behind her. The moon was full tonight and she took a moment to look out her bedside window. The open fields behind her home, usually grown with knee high grasses, shone silver in the light of the moon on the reflective snow. It was a magical sight, but one she no longer loved. Bailey sighed, half closing her eyes as she reached in the darkness for her pajamas. Still in the dark with her window wide open, she watched the calming scene before her and stripped her shirt and jeans. Her pajamas flowed onto her body, covering her comfortably as she prepared to do her homework, or at least what she could before her head pains returned.

 

She glanced out the window once more, her hand nearing the light switch. However, something stopped her: someone was outside. Bailey moved to the window, her eyes large as she watched a shadow move across the shimmering fields. She felt like screaming or ignoring it. It was probably just an animal. Before she knew it however, blue-white light flooded the shape. Before her growing eyes, comets flew through the air, streaks of light that made Bailey nauseous, but in a way that she enjoyed. It was like butterflies exploding into puffs of happiness, warmth that spread through her entire body. She couldn’t sit still as this scene unfolded before her, making her want to dance. The streaks of light continued to fly and circle the figure standing there, like nothing she had ever experienced. Finally her heart pulled her, her feet rarely touching the floor as she raced towards the light, finding the walls and doors of her home just a nuisance in her way.

 

Her bare feet raced across through the powdered snow as she sprinted towards the circling comets. All that mattered was those tailing lights, a portal to her dreams. Upon moving closer to the figure, she slowed down and crouched behind a nearby bush. Looking around it, her breath caught in her throat. It was a boy, probably no older than her, dressing in black pants and a zip up black hoodie. It was unzipped, showing his bare chest and abs beneath, despite the freezing winter air. The blue comets had shape now; cylinders attached to strings as the boy spun in circles and wove the strings around his arms and legs. The tight circles and weaving patterns choked Bailey, causing the darkness around her to grow darker as her lungs restricted access.

 

She sat there, a stalker of the light, watching the blue shine upon the boy’s abs, now after almost ten minutes sweating profoundly. Before her very eyes, and to her great depression, the glowing light died away to nothing but a catch of the eye. The boy tossed them to the ground after removing the strings and turned to walk across the field. Bailey watched him, silently moving to pick up the discarded devices. She shook them, interested in the liquid inside which made a soft “cshh†sound with each move. The figure continued to walk, before turning to the side and entering the backyard of a house on the farthest side. It had recently been built, and as of yet, no one lived there. Perhaps she was wrong, she thought as she walked back to her home slowly. The devices were cool in her hand as she walked past her worried who noticed her bright red feet. Bailey smiled as she lay in bed that night, the sticks tightly grasped in her fists.

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Bailey arrived to school early the next morning and was standing outside her car when Eli pulled up. One of the sticks she had acquired the night before was tied onto each of her wrists, though they no longer glowed as they had the night before. Eli noticed them, but said nothing, expecting her to just blow him off as always. He tried to be positive with her all the time, but he had to watch his tongue around her. He kissed her and said good morning and she said it back, with little more than no emotion. Nothing was different and she knew it. Eli knew it. The only thing different were the remnants of the night before. They walked into school with a cold silence, as was their norm. The ideals of relationship floundered behind them, unable to catch up and secure between them. They kissed goodbye in the hallways and wouldn’t see each other again until mid day for lunch.

 

Early in the morning while sitting in a study period, Bailey had looked up from her IPod as on of the teachers walked past. She was talking to someone still behind Bailey, but through the soundless motions of the teacher, it was apparent that a new student was to sit at the table across from Bailey. Interested in who, she turned her head as the boy walked by. A small gasp escaped her lips, causing the boy to glance down at her. His dark hair spiked out softly around his head, giving it a rustic but natural look. A lip ring was through his lower right lip and his eyes were green, almost to the point of being neon. He smiled softly at her before sitting down, facing away. Bailey’s heart was pounding; the baggy dark clothes, the fact that she didn’t know him. Just when she thought that her heart was going to stop, he turned around to survey his surroundings.

 

His eyes froze on her wrists. They narrowed before flicking them to her face. Bailey bit her lip, the only thing to stop the small scream that was trying to escape. He raised his hand to his lip, played with the ring there for a moment, and then spoke with a voice like liquid ecstasy, saying, “Those are mine, aren’t they?†She nodded slowly, her heart continuing its battle against the containment of her ribs. He smiled warmly now, turning to her. “I didn’t notice you watching me. I’m Issac.â€

 

He extended his hand kindly, in a slow fashion, and as Bailey shook it, an icy shock jumped between them. Issac laughed, as did Bailey for the first time in months. “I’m Bailey,†she breathed out, “Last night… that was unbelievable…†He nodded his thanks, as if it were truly nothing, and then turned back to his own table as the crooked-nosed teacher snapped at them to remain silent, as is the custom of old ladies.

 

The two of them stole glances at each other for the rest of the period, but just before the bell rang, one of the guidance councilors brought Issac away, wanting something of him. Bailey was sad to see him go. She desperately wanted to talk to him. However, her mind didn’t dwell on it for long, for a hand reach around her waist. Eli’s kiss met her obsidian cheek and they commenced the small amount of talking on their way to lunch. It was a quiet, if not uncomfortable period, as always. It was a space in time that neither of them enjoyed, though Eli pretended as much. The bell to go to the next class rang, full of grace, and the two embraced in another unwanted moment. They continued to show that they cared, simply because they wanted to believe it.

 

After school, Eli found Bailey in the hall yet again. The two of them walked in silence, not holding hands or pinkies towards the metal detectors, past the flagpole, and to their cars. They stood facing each other, leaning against their own cars. Bailey knew what was coming. A tear slid down her cheek. Neither looked at the other, though finally Eli sighed and shook his head.

 

Bailey hugged her book bag to her chest, swallowing hard, another tear falling from her eyes. The lump in her throat felt like it was alive, squirming just to make her choke as she tried to talk. Her lip quivered as she started. “You know I don’t understand what’s wrong with me,†she said, Niagara now falling to her feet, “And please know that everything you did for me, to help me, made you love me all the more… but…â€

 

“We don’t belong together,†he cut in as she failed to speak. Bailey nodded softly and he did as well, just for clarity’s sake. He stood up straight, wiping his eyes for a moment, before saying, “We loved each other. We both know that’s true. It’s just how it is.†He gave her one last hug, still like stone, and then got into his car and drove away.

 

Bailey drove home, her techno soft in the background. Her tears had streaked her makeup, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to impress anyone. All she wanted was to relax and take some time to think.

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Bailey didn’t know what she was thinking, so soon especially. She went to Issac’s house that night. The doorbell rang through the lavish house and she was delighted to see him answer the door. They started with small talk, but instead of simply standing on the porch, they walked through the field behind her house, watching the stars arrive for the evening. It was a warm day, considering it was nearing February. A jacket and pants sufficed for them both. They walked, Bailey’s enthusiastic want of knowledge kept Issac busy. He had moved to Bailey’s town because of his father’s job. His favorite food was oranges. He had been glowstringing-the art he was such a master at-since he was 14. His favorite color was blue.

 

It was 9:58 PM when Issac pulled fresh glow sticks from his pockets, the strings already attached. Bailey inquired as to what he used for strings, and much to her amusement, learned that they were shoelaces, simply tied on and wrapped amongst his fingers. He held them in his hands a moment before handing one to her. “It’s an Ultra Glow Stick,†he explained, “like breaking the sun in your hands.†He smiled and then with three fingers, broke the glass inner chamber, releasing the golden light from within. Their faces flooded with orange, causing Bailey to giggle with delight, as if a child once again. She broke her own and held it in front of her face. Gently, Issac urged the stick from her hand, and stepped back. He began his dance, weaving the comets around him. He made butterflies and windmills of light, spinning circles of heavenly power, and orbits as he purposefully tangled the strings. Almost as soon as he had started, the light died, and along with it, their time together that night.

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Nearly every night the ritual of walking through the fields and glowstrining continued. A kind friendship continued to grow beneath those brilliant lights. Issac began teaching Bailey how to glowstring only a week later, giving her a whole box of sticks that he had bought for use. She learned how to swing and control the dancing lights around her body, twisting them in loops and circles in every direction. Bailey practiced every second she could, giving her mother some happiness because she was once again pursuing something she enjoyed. Every so often at night together, they would touch the sticks softly in mid turn, almost as if in a passionate kiss. When she would hit herself with the hard plastic tube, he would kiss her bruises, unannounced to him how much it caused her heart to flutter. The connection between them was almost visible, it fared that strongly, but was never acted upon. Neither of them wanted to make a first step, but both of them wanted nothing more than to break their friendship and finally fall in love.

 

It was one such night the next spring, as their sticks were fading, that they lay bundled up and cuddling for warmth. Bailey spoke after a long time of silence, staring at the stars. She held a green glow stick in front of her eyes, though obviously fading away. “It’s sad, you know? How they last such a short time…†she observed.

 

He nodded against her head which rested on his shoulder. “Yeah…†he said in almost a dream-like state, “but something I’ve realized is that, as one dies, it opens the possibility for another. There will always be another one to bring us together.†He pulled a stick from his pocket, cracking it upon his knee, and handing it to her, as if it had petals and thorns within its red glow. She held it to her chest, protecting it like a dragon would its treasure, the faded green glow mixing with the brilliant purple. She lifted her head and kissed his lips, both their hearts racing, as she kissed him again and again. The words they whispered were lost to the wind, known only to themselves as Issac gently moved some of Bailey’s hair from her eyes.

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The driver was drunk and had hopped the curb, striking Issac as he was walking home the next day. He was thrown back against a tree, causing one of the glow sticks he was carrying to crack, splattering orange glowing spots upon his face. The rest of the tube lay next to him, the chemicals pooling together. He was conscious as the ambulance came and rushed him off, the blurred lights reminding him of a glow stick’s tail. The liquid upon his face was sticky and unimportant to the doctors who tried to stop the bleeding in his side. He still gripped one of the sticks, the unbroken one. It shone brightly between his fingers, but already it was fading. He licked his lips, suddenly drier than ever before: the lips that had found the love of his life and had shown her exactly what he had always wanted. He struggled to bring the glow stick up to his chest, hugging it as he whimpered, “Please don’t die. Please don’t go out. Bailey hates it when you go out.â€

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Bailey walked into the room. It was cold and smelled harsh of chemicals. But there he was, causing her lip to quiver and tears to fall, once again. The orange spots on his face had long faded away, with only a small visible residue left. There was a dead glow stick lying on the floor. As she moved to him, the doctor said, in hopes of it soothing the poor girl, “He wouldn’t let us touch that. He didn’t want it to die. He said Bailey hated it. And when it did stop glowing, he dropped it, and began to cry. He was whimpering, ‘I don’t want to die. Please, for her, don’t let me die.â€

 

Bailey bent down and picked up the discarded glow stick and then stood. Her face glistened in the soft lights of the room as she stroked his hair. Pocketing the one that had been his, she pulled an unbroken blue glow stick from her pocket and placed it in his lifeless hand. She kissed him, still warm to her lips, and whispered, “The light never dies Issac… there will always be another to bring us together.†She brought out another stick, and cracked it, saying, “Until this light dies… I will always love you.†She kissed him again, lingering a moment longer. The doctor began to say something, but she turned away and ran from the building. She stole the car her mother had driven, her techno blaring madly as she cried. Despite the tears, she drove carefully, not wanting to die before she could reach her destination.

 

She returned home and ran to her room. She picked up two dead glow sticks on two strings. She ran, stumbling as she spilled salt to the earth, clutching both the dead glow sticks and the still glowing one from the hospital. Bailey reached the field, exhausted, but her muscle’s ached with the pain of losing him, forcing her to continue. She clutched the ground, digging her fingernails amongst the filth, tearing it up. Only when the hole was deep enough did she stop, breathing heavily. She held the dead glow sticks in her hands, tears blurring her vision of them. But she didn’t need her eyes to see them, not after the nights of staring at them before sleep. She kissed them both and then placed them in the hole she had dug.

 

She found a few large stones to mark the first spot she had ever laid eyes on him. Her memorial finished, she lay next to it, hugging her live glow stick. “They never die, Issac,†she whispered. A warm wind blew past, moving the hair from her face, as her breathing leveled, and again that night she kissed Issac, with comets soaring all around, entwining eternally together.

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Wow, I absolutely love this. Its a sad, gut-wrenching story of hope and happiness.. Strange mix, but it worked out great.. I would definitely like to hear what kind of reaction it gets at the college you are submitting this at. :biggrin2:

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Oh, wow. You've got a lot to work with here. When is this due? I'd like to write you a long review/critique and edit this, but I'm not free for a couple of days. It has potential! :)

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"the light never dies"....... that was an awesome story dude. a tear jerker.

very good man

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oh, you guys just totally made my night!!! i was starting to think no one would read this, cause while i wrote it i wanted to see what all the GS.Cers would think! so thank you very much! as such...

 

Sasquatch: Thank you for your kind words. It is an interesting mix, especially for me to write. I pulled A LOT from my own life (mainly settings) however, the relationships were so realistic to me, cause i've been in both of those (minus the ending (thank God)). so to write about both ends of the spectrum, and to bring out tears and a smile but due to both sadness and happyness.... it was tough. I'll admit, i cried writing it.... both because i re-wrote the last 4 pages or so THREE TIMES... and because when i knew i loved it, i knew it! ^_^ BTW-love your signiture ;)

 

Lira: I turned it in earlier last week. however, i THINK I can turn it into my teacher until like, the 24th? maybe? either way, I'd LOVE to read any thoughts/review/whatever you have on it. I intend at some point to expand past the 10 page limit i was given, to build the characters together more. and make Issac's whole thing alot longer and whatnot. I love it as is, but there's SOOOOO much i wanted to do, from him teaching her moves like the butterfly (and parlelling it to their relationship taking flight) to going into more detail about Issac's past.

 

Whiteman: Thank you very much. I greatly appreciate it. As i said above in this post, it made me cry too. for me, alot of it has to do with my current girlfriend. almost 3 years we've been together, and i think i pulled our personalities into Bailey and Issac (to an extent of course). so it made it SOOOO real to me, even to the fact that my gf wants to learn to glowstring too! thanks again!

 

^_^ thanks guys! i'll be sure to let you all know what the college people think about it!!!

 

EDIT: one thing i'd really like to know though: i realize glowsticking culture wasn't really portrayed, and that wasn't the point. and i know ALOT of people are touchy about glowsticking being used in the wrong situation. Obviously, you three arn't offended by how I did it. so that being said, if i may ask:

 

1. my presentation of glowsticking being a release/escape or something that's always with us and allowed to grow when we pick up the sticks? does anyone else agree with those things?

2. from a literary stand point, how was my presentation of the actual act of it (the parts where he/they are sticking)? i think that makes sense.... if not, ignore it ^_^

 

thanks! who knows!? maybe this will be the next *GASP*

 

TWILIGHT!!! :P

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I'll admit, i cried writing it....

 

Im not gunna lie dude... i cried reading it...

its a very good piece of creative writing.

Its mos def gunna be a piece that i remember and save man....

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Dont worry about it man....

you've Definitely got some talent in this area if you have more story's that have the same effect.

i say this from the bottom of my heart...

if you have any other storys, Even if there are not related to glowsticking, I would love to read them.

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it's funny you should ask if i have any other stories. Why? cause i don't. I write poetry, mostly for my gf or when i'm angry (though now i glowstick when i'm angry or whatever) or just wanna write. I've gone to camps and all sorts of stuff for creative writing but i've never finished a story in my life, besides this one (and a couple things that were only a page long for those camps (they made books at the end of them with our stuff, so it was poorly done most of the time). back in 7th grade i wrote one that got to be 77 pages long, in a regular notebook. never finished, probibly never will.

 

I found a couple things. shoot me a PM if you want to read them, they're small short stories (one is kinda a poemish type thing).

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EDIT: one thing i'd really like to know though: i realize glowsticking culture wasn't really portrayed, and that wasn't the point. and i know ALOT of people are touchy about glowsticking being used in the wrong situation. Obviously, you three arn't offended by how I did it. so that being said, if i may ask:

 

1. my presentation of glowsticking being a release/escape or something that's always with us and allowed to grow when we pick up the sticks? does anyone else agree with those things?

2. from a literary stand point, how was my presentation of the actual act of it (the parts where he/they are sticking)? i think that makes sense.... if not, ignore it ^_^

 

Well seeing as it was a story and not really an educational essay on the culture of glowsticking, I dont see anything at all wrong with it. It kind of adds an element of imagination to the reader, seeing "Comets.. (and) Butterflies exploding into puffs of happiness" in their minds eye revolving and swirling around a dark figure, with a girls head sticking out of a bush behind him, watching him wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. It may be a bit more confusing for someone who doesnt know what is really going on, but it is still a beautiful description.

 

Personally, I agree with the idea that glowsticking can be used as a release, or a growing art, depending on who is doing it, and for what purpose they are doing it. For instance, Bailey found it to be a temporary release, while Isaac was performing as an art. Its different for each person in real life, just as you portrayed it in this story.

 

And as I said earlier, I think you described the art very well, especially for someone who doesnt know what is going on. They way you wrote the sticking into the combining of two peoples hearts through various reasons worked perfectly, at least in my opinion.

 

It really is a great piece of writing, and I hope you get good reviews of it by your professors and peers at school.

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so the festival was yesterday. what it was was every person who submitted something had a session to go to, with like, 4 other people, and we'd each read a section of our story and then have a disscussion (with everyone there (the presenters and people just being there to listen). only one prof. read the story, unless they submitted it to the whole group for consideration for awards.

 

so it got to be my turn in my session and i read the section from "Nearly every night...". We started talking, and the other students had their input. what i got out of it was that they really liked it, but moreso because i didn't stay too much on one detail. It wasn't so focused on the color of the glowsticks. nor was it too focused on diolauge, but had a perfect balance. then the professor started talking and she said she liked it, and said some things she liked, but then went super critical. Her notes on the back of my submission:

 

-I'm not so keen on death by car. It's too convenient for writers. Add a more unpredictable death? (when she talked about this, she called it "an easy way out". though the point of the car crash was to kinda shock the reader in a sudden event. she suggested making him handicapped or die from a freak accident, but i feel that it wouldn't have worked as well to have him die from a falling ladder versus a vicious accident. it seemed to comic relief to me.)

 

-Bailey feels so remote. Perhpas that's your intention, but what would happen if you allowed the reader access into her emotional landscape? You could add stream-of-consciousness narritive (perhaps in italics). (she was supposed to feel empty and remote. and adding her thoughts in would have been wonderful, except for my 10 page limit that had been placed on me. i think she forgot that point, that i couldn't throw EVERYTHING i wanted into it because i could only write 10 pages)

 

-P. 4: Bailey and her mother didn't add much to me. What did you intend to capture in this scene? Add details that reinforce your purpose? (again, lack of page restraints owuld have helped, but the purpose of that was to show that her mother had tried and tried, but simply couldn't anymore).

 

 

Anyhow, to me, from everything she talked about, it seemed like she hated it. my friends agreed. We went to the award ceremony at the end of the day (honorable mentions and cash prizes for all the categories). it got to the short fiction and I GOT AN HONORABLE MENTION! OMG! I was estatic, and i'm still super happy about it. out of maybe, 30-40 people in that section i think, I was picked as one of 10 people to get an HM or award!

 

so yea, that was how all that turned out ^_^

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Yo i actually took the time to read cause i was bored at school and its pretty bada**

LOL idk about Lira im not good at grammar and all that :P

but yea pretty good story

 

NINJA

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Man, Arius, That sounds pretty harsh for an old English bag. But at least you got something out of it. Congratulations on that one.

 

 

I still say you rewrite it with more insight and story. We could make it the unofficial GSC fiction story :biggrin2:

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yea, i think she liked it and wanted alot more out of it mainly. that and forgot the 10 page limit we had >.< i plan to rewrite it/add to it at some point, but life is pretty much in the shi*ter at the moment, so who knows when that'll happen. especially since the girl i wrote it for/thinking about is no longer that girl in my life... yea...

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