Drafts

One version of the introduction of Caught Somewhere In Time. I've got about three completely different versions of it saved and I don't think that I can elaborate on any of them.

I didn't understand why Bruce Dickinson and the rest of Iron Maiden had chosen my band to support them on their European tour. We weren't famous and barely had any songs to our name. We were a tiny little band and in all honesty we weren't a bit like Iron Maiden and we definitely weren't a band that fans of Iron Maiden would appreciate.

But I was grateful for them taking us out on tour, because I was captivated by one member of the band in particular.

Bruce Dickinson was nearly double my age - 45 to my 24 - but I couldn't stop myself from thinking dirty thoughts about him. It was like a schoolchild crush that I was experiencing, and every time he so much as looked at me, I'd hide behind my mess of dark hair and mumble responses at him if he spoke to me. He was a rock god absolutely oozing with energy and I was just the complete opposite. I was one of the quietest, shyest people and I couldn't be further from being a rock god if I tried. But my god, I was attracted to him.

I first spoke when I was two years old, then never again after that.

It's like seeing the world through a pair of smoky glasses.

Wonderful idea!

Yellowish. The room was...yellowish.She couldn't stress it enough. Yellowish! Not yellow...yellowish. It was ugly but it was her new home. Her home in a shade of yellow she would never forget.

I really had to get that out of my brain.

Brendon sings Kylie songs in a bad Australian accent and Ryan makes (burnt) breakfast in bed.
I'm going to be here so much from now on. :tehe:

Yeah an original fic idea...:

Gingivitis Mus knows people. He knows what they need. He knows their dreams, and he knows how things will end. He lives with his companion Ellie Waterbury a normal, bookish, 17 year old girl. Her life is the usual go to school argue with the parents, look after her pet mouse…until one day new neighbours move into the 1930s Californian Bungalow next door.

I love this... Just pieces of peoples imaginations. ...Anyways, I've wanted to write something for this but I can't, so here:
His passion stunned me... And the smell of death filled the air.

I'm so sad I can't actually use it, but it won't fit well anywhere. Oh well.

It started with a camera. It was old by todays standards. This camera wasn't digital and light-weight. It was film-using and chunky to hold. Compared to a light digital camera, it would weigh you down so much your hand would hit the floor. Even though it was old, used film, and heavy it was still my camera.

Kris ignored the comment, and went back to make himself another cup of hot chocolate.

Okay all I need right now is for my brain to work. :XD

I can’t keep wishing on a star that’s never going to shine. I can’t keep looking in the sky, in the hope that maybe a shooting star will fly across the midnight abyss lighting up in different shades of red and yellow. It’s foolish and naive to believe that wishes come true, but I can’t stop wishing just like I can’t stop breathing. To stop wishing would be to stop living.

I wish I could stop loving you.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to fit that anywhere. :think: It needs a bit of work, it's the first thing I've wrote for a while.

Across the room, he sits like a stranger, his son's t-shirt clutched in both hands.

"I'll come see you when I'm back in London," Josh murmured, stubbing his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe.

"Yeah," Faris said quietly back.

"Do you want me to?"

Faris hesitated, then smiled. "Yeah."

I want to use it, but I've no idea where it could go! :grr:

I miss the scarlet extravagance of your blood on my eyelids and the caramel whisper clinging to your lips.

She typed a letter, then hesitated. She pondered over actually going through with it, then shook her head and proceeded to tap the backspace button. Gaining more confidence within that same minute, the girl put the letters back onto the screen. With a sigh, they were erased, once again. The same routine continued, and soon she was fed up. The letters were once again typed, but left. Frustration drove her small body into slamming her fists onto the flat surface of the desk, and storming away.

'I love you', read the monitor of Lucille Callahan's computer..

Adrian looked over at his sister, beautiful and carelessly thrown together, for his sake. He notices -- finally -- that she was right about everything all along, including the fact that, yes, they had the same nose.

'You know,' Adrian starts, shifting slightly to face her, 'I-I don't think soul mates are -- always lovers... Like, maybe -- maybe some people aren't built t-to fall in love with someone. Maybe they're meant to be alone an-and search. M-aybe soul mates... can be related. Maybe a soul mate -- maybe soul mates just have to be made for each other. Maybe some are -- just -- helping the other's search along.'

Aidan looks over at him after a moment, searching his face, as unsure as ever. She gives him a small smile, nodding slowly. 'I love you too.'
-May one day be the end of Babysham.

I lay in bed resting my tired head against the pillows. My stomach is rumbling loudly and I smile faintly to myself.

I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I sit up in my bed and decide that it's time for me to do some training, because the fat on my stomach won't go away by itself. I guess it would be more effective if I did the sit ups lying on the floor, but to be honest it hurts too much. My spine is rubbing against the hard surface and I get chafes. It's less painful to do them in the bed.

After about a hundred sit ups I lay back to rest. I have to do one hundred more before I can go to sleep.

I keep losing the count and keep repeating the same numbers until I finally get to one hundred.

I close my eyelids and place my hands on my hip bones. I imagine myself as skinny and know that it's all worth it. I move my hands up to my ribs and let my fingers sink in a little into the chinks between them.

"She was a no-good, blood-sucking bitch."

That was the only thing his dad told him about his mother. It was the same day he gave him his first wooden stake. He'd listen to his druken cries late at night about his mother, and it made him angry. Angry at his mother, at his father, and every shit-sucking vampire out there.

I've been saving these up so that I don't make 1367534 consecutive posts. :tehe:

“Je casserai des os que vous n'avez pas connus que vous avez eu.”
(I’ll break bones you didn’t know you had.)

-

It was like a competition between them: how many bottles of pills could they swallow without passing out? Ryan’s record was three. Hers was seven.

-

“It's bad for your lungs, you know,” Brendon stated quietly. “And your heart, and your-“
“I know Bren,” Ryan cut in with a grin, flicking the ash from the cigarette. “I know.”
The pair remained silent for a few moments, Ryan occasionally taking a drag from the cigarette and Brendon staring at his shoes.
“And it-”
“Bren, seriously, shut up.”

And finally, a few lines that kept creeping into my head at school today:

Twilight’s burning and the sky is on fire.
We’re flames and we’re dying.
I feel like tearing up the horizon today.
Gone with the wind and we’ll float out of sight.
I want you to scatter my ashes straight into the breeze (I want them to hit you in the face).
I feel like a failure (you are my disease).
Life is like a roller-coaster and I want to get off now.

"Wentz boy."

He stopped chewing. The food in his mouth soon became tasteless when
his eyes traveled to meet the person standing in front of him. A girl,
slightly younger than him, smiled back with both hands down her pockets.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," she spoke while pulling out the chair opposite
of his, stepping aside before sliding to sit on it. "But my cousin over there
asks if she could have your autograph."

The girl pointed her thumb over her shoulder to a nearby table. His eyes
followed and he saw another girl - much younger - sitting alone staring
back at him nervously. The moment their eyes met she gasped and quickly looked away.

"She's a little shy."

Inspiration: Burger King. :file:

I…didn’t understand. Did he even realize what he was saying? It was just…gibberish. Gibberish that made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut.

I don't know where to put it. It's killing me because I love it so much. :grr: