In the movies, there's always some sort of heroic background music when the protagonist saves the day, harrowing violins, doom-filled pianos, something to keep the audience's interest as they're watching someone getting the crap beaten out of them. Who would want to hear the thuds, the smacks, the crunches, the grunts and groans of a real fight?

All I could hear was our breathing; his, hers, and mine. It melded together in the tiny locker room, a cacophany of panting and huffing. My lungs were on fire, I could barely breathe after he gave me that sucker punch to the chest. His eyes were wild and feral as he glared at me, dukes up like in the old days. I halfway expected him to spew some sort of noir phrase at me as we circled each other. But we both remained silent. Every couple seconds I glanced out the corner of my eye to make sure she was all right; she was still backed up in the corner, her skin nearly white against the midnight blue of the lockers.

I had to write this for my english class... It's a narritive
descriptive essay. It's what happened between me and Jason
one night. I miss him alot and I remember this being a special
night for us.. so I tried fairly hard to make this as good as
possible. I figured maybe someone would get a kick out of reading
it *shrug* Enjoy.

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I got kinda bored with this story so sorry if it sucks. This is infact the end. And I decided just to name it Untitled because it explains everything without really saying anything. Comments are appreciated. Thanks to the people that read any of this!

Chapter 9: Jess
Slowly ascending the stairs to my room I reached my door ready to crash at the first sight of the bed. I can’t sleep without music though so mustering up the energy, I crossed my room and pushed play to the song that reminded me of Jamie.

It's long I know, but it's pretty good. I'm trying to get the second part down, so...be patient.

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When I was 19, I sold my soul to the Devil for the life of my then true love.

I was young, brash, and desperate. She was beautiful, kind, and terminally ill. A match made in heaven.

They say the Devil's in the details. Who would think that behind the cliched phrase so many people would find the truth? I'll tell you dear reader, if more people took that sentence to heart, there'd be a lot less pain in the world today.

I didn't know this, but I lost some of scene 3 in the move to san fran, so I will have to re-finish it, and I think that I will have a total of six scenes in the screenplay. Most likely, scene 3 will be done by MOnday, I will utilise the weekend for writing (I am soooo excited).

As a way of making amends, here is a short story I wrote for the same class which my teacher really liked. If I get enough positive feedback, I could continue it, sorta like a serial. But only if y'all are interested.

Scene II: Chrome Waves of Autos

(Cut to a shot where time has obviously passed, the sky is blue-black, and the car is navigating through a parking lot. The rain has ended, and eerie silence pervades the entire atmosphere. Only the sound of the engine can be heard. The only sources of light are tall “T

Film Noir

Scene I: Twas a Stormy Evening

(Fade from black to a picture of a stormy, gray sky. The shadows on the bulbous clouds are dark and menacing. We hear the growling of thunder in the distance, rumbling long and low. The camera seems to shake minutely, as if one were taping this from a moving automobile. A telephone pole rushes from right to left, showing that the camera is indeed moving. Title and opening credits begin to appear. Unnerving piano music is being played in the background. As credits play, the shot fades to a different shot of the same kind of storm clouds, and fades again, several times throughout opening credits, showing passage of space and time.)

I am now taking suggestions for titles cause its prett sad posting the 8th chapter and not knowing waht to call it. Once again thanks for reading this! Here are chapters 6,7,8.

Chapter 6: Annie
I no longer blame myself. I only let it sink in and embrace what happened. If I don’t, I’ll never get over what I did.

In the two weeks that have gone by I’ve gone to school and then driven home. I’ve tried to work up the energy to hang out friends, but too much too fast does more harm than good. I’m trying to take one baby step at a time. It doesn’t stop how I feel though.

Chapters 4+5. Thanks for reading! Still no luck with the title I seem to have a block on it. Comments are appreciated :)

Chapter 4: Jess

I sat down on the dirty bathroom floor listening to Jamie as she explained what happened.

“I’m gonna kill her.

Once again heres part of a story i wrote. I still havent came up with a title but hopefully once I finish the rest I'll know by then. Again, I'd really apreciate feedback and thanks to people who read this.

Chapter 2: Jamie
Heading across the kitchen I balanced my cereal bowl careful not to spill any milk. I sat down in my usual spot at the table and placed my bag in the seat next to me. Double checking that all of my chex were covered with milk I took a bite of my favorite cereal.

Allright um i wrote this its fiction . If your gonna give me criticizm make it nice please. Thanks if you read this and give feedback. Um if people like it ill type up the rest.

PART 1:Untitled
I always believed that you could learn everything about a person through their eyes. I’m a sucker for green. Probably because it’s my favorite color; I used to think otherwise though.

i have no idea where this came from, i just wrote it one day on the way home from richmond.

I’d seen you in the halls, wandering them like me, searching for a place to belong. After the third sighting, I began to wonder if you were like me, one of those who were Lost, not knowing who you were or where you came from. I never spoke to you, I’d simply watch; in the rec room I’d sit, absently doing a puzzle or coloring, with you in the corner of my eye, sitting in the little seat in the bay window. Your legs tucked under, hands clasped at the knees; the sun would catch your hair, making it the color of corn silk, your crystaline eyes would be vague, watching the world as I would, waiting for the message that would never arrive, the order that would never come. We didn’t know why or when they would come, we just knew they would. Sometimes, you’d catch me staring and I’d stare back. It seemed like our souls would connect in these spare seconds, and we knew, we knew we were not like the rest.

“It’s a long shot and you know it

sorry to have to put the whole thing, i'm still technologically illiterate in a lot of things. it's good though.

http://wicked-windle.blogspot.com/2006/08/deals-deal-even-with-dirty-dea...

“Please, just go

Ozymandius bounced the basketball onto the asphalt. He made shots in quick succession, scoring on almost all of them. His spirits started to lighten as he dribbled around the court, faking and shooting. “Those guys are wrong-I’m no wuss! Hell, I’m Shaq! Oz pushed his long, wispy blond hair out of his eyes and continued, “Man. Just because I’m no macho dude talking about boobs all the time, that does not mean I’m inferior. I’m gay! So what! He felt like spitting in the face of a particularly mean kid named Rob who had knocked him down in the hall early today. There were other gay people, he was sure there were-not that he knew any. There had to be! A little more melancholy now, Oz began to head off the school’s court. The playgrounds and courts were empty because school hadn’t quite let out yet. Oz had cut early, knowing no one would want to share the courts with him later. Oz only lived about eight blocks from E. Roosevelt High and could jog home in less then ten minutes. He took one more shot and was about to pick up his book bag when a pack of boys from his grade approached. “Ozzy boy!

A school assessment I handed in to my homophobic teacher (which got highest mark possible :) ).

My Jim

Each ragged intake of breath damaged my soul as much as it was damaging his body. It was disquieting, sitting in the dark room listening to nothing but continuous rasping. My eyes, fixed on his trembling chest, began to blur and slide out of focus. I hung my head, filled with the knowledge that this was it. The love of my life was finally going to lose his arduous battle. And there was not a thing anyone in the world could do about it.

HEY!!! GUESS WHAT!!!

Sometimes...sometimes...i forget who i am...

then i get really scared...and i wonder "Who am i?"

and I run around like a chicken with it's head cut off, screaming "I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM!!!"

and people stare and laugh because only silly people forget who they are.

but then i remember. i am a funny potato with their own song.

and i'm okay.

The End.

Let Flowers Die

Mary Rose glanced across the empty room that was entitled only to her loneliness and the faint smell of flowers she kept. Within the abundance of fresh, lively flamingos, lilies, lavenders, sunflowers and many more was a withered bunch of dry, arid, brown roses. On the surface they seemed rousingly lifeless, but the connection they seem to make with Mary's eyes was dead alive.

i was eating an english muffin with hot penut butter on it.. and i went to talk to my friend on msn.. and it all started porringon me :P.. now i'm like all full of penut butter... o well.. it is good aniwys