June 8th, 2008 at 02:59am
I usually don't read many Fall Out Boy stories, but I loved your opening sentence.
The slices of his broken heart lay upon the marble grounds of her territory as he walked throughout the crowds of bodies and scents, his aim to cover himself within the sounds and laughs to run away; to break away.
That was excellent. It really pulled me in, you know. It's so descriptive and creative. Opening sentences are really important, and I just want you to know yours really grabbed my attention.
Outside, in the dark, he stood, grasping breaths and tears and fighting not to slip off his social mask in the midst of this wholesome darkness and shadowy terrors, belonging to this lonely, yet crowded, night.
Brilliant. I can feel his embarrassment in that line. I can picture myself in his position just wanting to try and gain some dignity back.
They'd tear him down like they built his words up.
I think that was my favorite part. It just...fit so well. He doesn't have many true friends, just fakes who see him as a trend-setter. But the second he shows signs of a flaw, they abandon him.
It hurt recalling those nights; especially in a place like this; crowded, uncaring and most of all superficial.
It shows that he's not meant to be with those "superficial" people. He doesn't want to be around them anymore, right? He realizes that that was never really his crowd and he shouldn't be there.
Okay, so overall I thought this was brilliant. You're wording was so poetic and thoughtful. I hope I interpreted everything correctly, if not, feel free to yell at me.:cute:
Beautiful job.
Oh, I almost forgot how pwnsome you were at this.:yah
Her territory makes it seem like the heart-slicing was done on her terms-perhaps even by her doing, and all the guy's trying to do is just disappear. Like enough is enough. Once she's run his heart through, there's nothing else left.
"Yeah... I'm fine. Just fine," His clenched teeth didn't approve of his words; his clenched fists didn't either. He's lying and lying and the stench of his lies is starting to burn and sear his nostrils and his cascading thoughts.
The imagery, as always, is pretty violent in nature, and that's what makes the ideas seem more vibrant, more powerful. It's like his lies aren't only catching up with him, but they're corrupting his thoughts; plaguing him until they lterally start burning him up inside.
"I got to go..." he said tears jerking away and back into his eyes, this heart doesn't need more words to crush it down; doesn't need more stabs.
I love the emotional and physcial aspects of this part. You can see that internally he's a train wreck of emotions, and to emphasise that, you've got the imagery of the stabbed, crushed and bleeding heart. Just...yeah. Mindblowing description.
Outside, in the dark, he stood, grasping breaths and tears and fighting not to slip off his social mask in the midst of this wholesome darkness and shadowy terrors, belonging to this lonely, yet crowded, night.
Great idea of the 'social mask' here...the mask that sotps the outside world seeing the true extent of his emotion, of this hurt, even thought he's hurting so badly. Maybe that's why he feels lonely; because he's got this mask between him and basic human interaction. In keeping up social appearance, he's stopped being able to connect with people.
His mind ponders and his thoughts sway and writhe; was having that much alcohol a good idea? Probably not, but he'll take anything to ease the pain.
Anything.
The desperation of this cries off the page. He can't show his true emotions, because his need for the mask prevents him from doing so, and he can't just cope with the pain, and so he's trying even the most inadvisable things to try and block them out. Just anything to block them out.
He stood watching darkness crawl onto the previously luminous corners and cracks; he's watching it claw into the shadows and creep into the night; it even reached his heart,
His insides,
Into his pains and insecurities...
:cheese:
There's just..fduaf.. How do you do this kinda stuff?:cheese:
Now you've got this monstrous evil, threatening to tear him apart even more, to go into the parts of him that only she should have any right to access...which makes me think; how much is this monster something of his own creation, his own design?
Just standing there clothed in the dark..
Clothed in the dark or...
From the dark?
The last addition to this part made all the difference for me. That part before was eerie, a little odd, yes, but not too far outside the reachoes of normality. but something clothed from the dark is an entire different story, and so the creepy-factor takes on a whole other level.
The one that rips shattered thoughts and sits in the pit of your worry, stirring it around relentlessly; the feeling that you're crying over a battle already lost. It was bound to happen; the odds weren't the best to begin with.
A little resigned, no? It's like he's totally given up, and turned to uphold this fatalistic ideal that nothing more can be done and he's dommend to lose. This price of fame has left him so vulnerable and weak that he's being burned by the limelight he created himself in his rise to the expectant eyes of the world which now lie upon him.
There were always those demons lying around like subtle volcanoes; lying within layers of ash and ego, dust-ridden and danger-doused. Waiting to kick him down; and when they kicked no mercy was involved.
They'd tear him down like they built his words up.
This bit was...yeah, as Guernica said, it shows how few real friends he actually had; how many ere just trend-followers of the next big thing, and weren't at all interested in the life of the person they were toying with. lying within layers of ash and ego is an awesome line as well...it makes them seem like they've always been there; waiting, just waiting for that moment where they can shatter him to pieces with one fatal blow.
It hurt recalling those nights; especially in a place like this; crowded, uncaring and most of all superficial. The perfect place to feel that he's exposed; all stares try to strip him down thought it's only the shell that they care about, but still; like all humans they're curious. They try to dismember him and his thoughts. They want to read him; read beyond the lines and eat up the meanings, feed their own hunger for lies and made-up tales, featuring their troubled minds, starring in the fiasco of his imagined misery.
Superficiality seems to be the recurring theme here. They're superficial in themselves, so at first are only interested to the same level for him; just what's on the outside, damn the internal workings. And then when they realise there's a brain inside, with thoughts and ideas, they just want to rip them from him, satisfy their own needs and curiosity until there really is nothing left of him.
"Just another rock star, death won't change that he is -and always- was a face in the crowd..."
A face no longer will be visible... much to his dismay; a face that's destine to melt from the hearts of others; but will he fade under the heat as well?
Does he want to be different? For all the anguish it's caused him, he seems to be scared of being just...normal. Nondescript. Nothing special. Just your average person of little importance to most. Someone whose death would be of little importance to most, however the circumstance.
And who knows?
It might take it back...
It seems almost threatening, for something so seemingly casual. What'd happen, I wonder, if he did, indeed, take it back? They say you don't know what you have until it's gone, so what if he did decide to go? Would they all still treat him as if he was just prey, or would they realise what he was trying to achieve, what he did achieve for them? Great ending.
And...yeah. You know this is awesome already, right?.
:arms: