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I wrote something that probably won’t make it into the first draft, so I’m posting it here. It’s what happens when I try to be dramatic and stuff. Also, have a moodboard!
“You know that feeling when you’re drunk, but you’re not really drunk? Or when you sleep, but you don’t?” Amara could barely keep her head up from the table. “It’s strange!”
Everything, including the barkeeper in front of her, blurred before her eyes. She felt sick, but so carefree - all her problems seemed so far away. She tightened the grip around her drink.
“You know, the feeling when somebody you once knew walks right past you and doesn’t recognize you.” She giggled, then she bit into her sleeve. Her chest burned of alcohol and anger and it hurt. It hurt so much.
“I think you had enough!” The barkeeper tried to take her glass, but Amara emptied it with one gulp.
“Ha! You thought!” She laughed, then her head became too heavy for her shoulders to carry. Everything hurt. Everything burned.
“M’am, would you like me to call someone for you?”, he asked, while his face drifted forth and back before Amara.
“What are you talking about?” She moved her head to quick and pain pierced her brain. “I’m fine! You know, I’m talking about this… feeling… when you can’t remember… your favourite song or your favourite food. When everything is far, far away… I hate that feeling!”
Black flashed in front of her eyes. She felt like puking, but she didn't. She felt like passing out, but she dug her nails into her skin and stayed awake.
“It feels like burning.” Her breath was flat and she could feel her heart hammering against her chest. “It feels like drowning. It almost feels like dying…”
I... have zero self control. Sometimes I hate myself for it.
Anyways: I wrote a thing! And it’s kinda good? I feel like I should write this, so I’m doing it. Lets see where this leads. I have no idea what I’m doing!
As you can see, I have a title but I feel like I’m going to change it eventually. I also made a mood board. And I decided to show the prologue to you, because I can and I need validation.
Please tell me what you think! (also if you think of a better title, tell me!)
| Almost like dying | Excerpt |
“Do you believe in god?” A warm voice interrupted the silence.
Amara looked up to see the church’s pastor standing next to the bench she was sitting on. “No.”
He looked surprised, considering she had already sat here for almost two hours - her hands folded like she was praying.
“But I believe there is a hell”, she went on.
“Why do you think that?” He smiled slightly, as if he knew something she didn’t. Amara would never understand why pastors were like this. “If there is a hell, why shouldn’t god exist?”
“Oh, I believe he exists.” Now she was smiling, but her hand started to shake slightly. She felt the sudden need for a cigaret.
“So you do believe in him?”, he asked, looking even more confused.
“I said I believe he exists. Or she. Whatever.” Amara clenched her fists to stop them from shaking. “I just don’t believe he is the kind and loving thing you believe he is.”
The priest sat down next to her. He didn’t seem to be angry about what she just said about his god - his religion. Another thing she would never understand.
“What do you believe he is?”
“An authority not to be questioned. A cruel ruler. A shitty father.” Amara needed a cigaret. Now.
“What makes you think he’s a shitty father?” His voice was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours - warm, deep, like honey.
“Aren’t we all supposed to be his children?”, she asked quietly. “Aren’t we all his creation? Why does he abandon us? Why is he letting his children die in such cruel ways?”
“Did you lose someone?” Remarkable how he immediately got what she was hinting at.
“My sister”, Amara answered.
“The lord works in mysterious ways”, he explained. “Maybe he thought she needed to go to heaven. Everything is part of god’s plan.”
“Plan?” She felt anger grow in my chest and tears gathering in her eyes. “Was it his plan to let her die at twentysix? Gutted in a bathtub? What father lets such things happen?”
He remained silence for a while, then he looked up on the cross hanging over the altar. “Sometimes we don’t understand what his plan is.”
Amara shook her head and closed her eyes. A single tear ran down her cheek. “Then maybe it’s not a very good plan. Maybe the plan is shit!”
The anger burned in her chest. The tear burned on her skin. Everything burned. She felt like she was on fire.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hey, for your character development ask: 5 for Damien, 34 for Elisabeth and 14, 25 and 45 for Amara.
Thank you so much for asking!
5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?
Damien carries his keys, his phone, his purse and a lighter for Amara.
34. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?
Eliza tries the same method multiple times to see, if she made a mistake, but then she moves on to another method.
25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?
I would say, this depends on the situation. If she clearly knows, she didn’t do anything, she always suspects someone else from her family(mostly Josh or her mother). But honestly, it’s because the whole family is a fucking mess.
45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?
Amara was always an atheist, thought after death was nothing and was okay with it. But now *spoiler, spoiler* she knows better and yes, she is terrified of hell, because she knows exactly she’ll end up there.
“What do I have to do to make you moan?” Amara kept kissing Elizas neck while her hands searched for a opportunity to slip her hands beneath Elizas shirt.
“Please don’t”, Eliza whispered. “There are people around.”