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Writing Discord's Sojourn

Guest Beautiful_Loser

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Guest Beautiful_Loser
The young girl lay on her bedroom floor in deep thought. How could someone so wise and precise when dealing with others be so neive in her own life? She knew what was going to happen next. Though everything around her was changing, she had always opted to neglect it, for there was one constant in her life. Now, that too was fading. She had to think fast. There was no way her negotiations could smooth this over. No, there was only one painful path th take. So she packed her bags, left, and took that Road of Detachment.
While traveling on this road, she noticed that roses were planted everywhere. How ironic; some road to dark and trecherous to be painted with the appearance of a pleasant time. Very many times the girl had to walk straight through the bushes, causing her to have to remove several thorns from her side. Some help they are, she thought. She stayed on the road for many months, and took little refuge in her thoughts and singing that once gave her comfort. What good is that when you want water, food, and a place to rest? Over and over in her head played the laughter and comfort she once had, and now realizing that others would be taking her place and she would never be there again, she decided to try to get rid of any emotional attachment to the other world. When she tried to poison it with hate, she realized that there was no attachment left. Her emotions had been gone for quite some time, but she tried to hold onto them because they were the only things that made her feel human. She felt the morbidity and apathy take her over. She used to dream of spiteing those who led her here, but now she was so used to this routine. The truth is, she journeyed this road many time before. Only every time she took different paths, each with a new sort of hope that it would be the last time she had to see these roads with the infernal roses cutting into her. However this time her hope had drained. She didn't stop to rest. She didn't care if she died. The only thing that reminded her of where she came from, her memories, were being blocked out. She didn't even care if she made it out of here alive.
When darkness fell, and she couldn't see the way anymore, she decided to stop. She didn't even bother with trying to nurse her wounds anymore; the mere pain made her remember she was alive. The girl felt herself falling asleep.
That night, for the third time in a row, she dreamt of her death at the hands of those once close to her. One boy took his friend's sword and cut off her head. The two girls and two boys began to laugh at her. When she awoke, the dream left her unphased. She couldn't even remember who those people were; she knew only that they once were her friends.
By this time the sun had barely rose, and the girl saw someone else on this road. She couldn't believe it, she thought she was alone. She tried to talk to the passenger, a hope in her arising. To her dismay, he stared at her with his cold eyes and walked away. She desperately tried to catch him, but he was traveling the other way. He too was trying to leave something behind.
Something stirred in the girl; she faintly remembered him. She then tried to establish between them a common ground, but he just turned around, gave a half smile to humor her, and kept on his own path. She realized that he had forgotten of their friendship.
She continued to follow him for many days. When night fell about a week after she started following him, she gazed up to look at the beautiful stars. When she turned to look at him, he had gone. She knew it was time to move on. There was no Good Samaritan on these harsh roads. She removed more thorns she had neglected from the past week, and the pain spread throughout her, and she remembered why she came here; she came here to escape her pain, and when she came here she encountered more. Feeling worse than ever, she tried to retrace her path the next day. Her feelings returned, though only long enough for her to cry and scream about them.
All in all her trip was not in vain. She never acquired her purification, but rather a new sort of cynical wisdom that is only tangible with your heart, even though hers was damaged beyond repair. The girl felt more alone than ever before, yet she found a security in her insecurities. She thought it over and decided that there was no reason to return to the outside world when everything had been pulled out from under her feet. She found a nice patch of thorny roses near the water, laid in them, and waited for time to pass by. She felt immortal and deranged. She remains there to this day.

Her name is Discord
And Discord is a beautiful loser... how morbidly beautiful.

yeah it needs some work, but i think you get the basic idea.
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That was...depressing.

First and foremost...please oh please break your paragraphs up, and use spellcheck! It helps the reader muchly.

Yes, muchly is a word.

Anyway, it was okay...but you can't feel much for the character except annoyed with her. All she does is feel sorry for herself. She's also rather egotiscal and selfish, especially in the first paragraph/section.

This character has a hell of a lot of room for growth. Either that, or she needs to die. Soon. Because she is really annoying.

As for the writing style itself, it's okay, but also holds room for improvement. Just keep writing, and it gets better as you go along. I promise! =D Large vocabularies make you look smart...* grin *

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