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#Post#: 2032--------------------------------------------------
Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Elephants4Ever Date: February 22, 2014, 2:20 am
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So, uh, well, tell me if you would read the rest of the story,
or if I just need to stick to first and third persons' POV.
Also, if you would read the rest of it, tell me whether I should
switch back and forth from the past (when this chapter is set)
to the present, or slowly progress throughout the MC's life
until I reach the present. ^^' I appreciate it. :)
At the heart of your life is a need for something more, for
passion and desire. The need for just plain emotion. The need to
be feeling something, whether it is hope or hopelessness, love
or hate, joy or sorrow. So maybe that is why you did what you
did.
But you didn’t understand. You didn’t understand that sometimes
nothing is better than everything. That boredom is better than
pain.
You always seemed so perfect, on the outside; perfect grades,
perfect friends. But perfection is never what you wanted—that
much is apparent.
If your mother could have held you in her arms and known
everything you’d ever do in your life, she’d have dropped you.
But, that’s the risk in parenting. You never know.
She was a good woman, your mother. Even when you drove her up
the wall, she kept her cool. She disciplined you well and kept
you in line. She praised your success and comforted you on the
rare occasions when you failed. She was proud, too. Yes, she
knew your faults, but she was one of the few people in the world
who did. She knew she was the mother of a genius; someone who
would make something of themselves.
She would never have guessed how.
She only made one mistake in raising you. That one mistake began
when you were six years, two months, and twenty-seven days old.
You remember it, don’t you?
Of course you could never have truly forgotten.
But it seems fitting to remind you.
You followed your mother diligently. There is little doubt that
you were still an innocent child, then; it can’t be fathomed
that malevolent plots could fill the mind of someone so young.
Nevertheless, no one will ever truly know. You never spoke a
word of your mind. Who knows how young your habits were formed?
Ah, but that is not the purpose of this flashback, so the story
will continue:
You followed her ever so diligently. Such a sweet little thing,
you were. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled, and
you smiled back. For the mother of such a young child, she was
old—forty-five years old, to be exact, and with the extent of
wrinkles and greyed hairs that most people don’t acquire until
they are sixty. She commanded much respect and earned the
reputation of a self-sacrificing hard worker because of it. To
you she was likely just your mother; your birth-giver and
child-raiser, nothing more. But you seemed to love her just the
same, then.
She took your small hand in hers and carefully guided your steps
down a steep and rickety staircase into a dark basement, the
light bulb of which had gone out years ago and had never been
replaced. Needless to say, she didn’t venture down there much,
and certainly never let you go down. However, she’d been
possessed by something different, that day; there was a sparkle
in her eye and a bounce in her step that you didn’t often have
the good fortune of seeing, so you followed her without
questioning her spontaneous decision.
Her feet reached the bottom, followed by yours only a moment
later when she swung you down in a motion full of gentle love.
Even through the darkness, you could see the love shining
through her eyes. If you thought about it much, you may have
even supposed that her two bright, happy green eyes lit up the
entire room. It certainly appeared that way.
As you walked, your carefully placed footsteps stirred up a
thick cloud of dust which served to make the darkness more
gloomy and the air difficult to breath. It was then that you
opened your mouth and began to ask your mother why you were
coming down. But she quieted you with a quiet hush and an
excited smile, and began to speak instead.
“I have something for you,” she said. “A surprise. Most kids
your age wouldn’t enjoy it, but I think you will.”
Together you inched slowly into the darkness, her hands
stretched wide out in front of her, one groping along the wall
and the other feeling for any unseen obstacles. You walked
slowly behind her, the hem of her skirt balled tightly in your
small fist, the tugs of your mother’s movement your sole guide
through the dark basement. You were an unusually collected
child, though, and not so much as a whimper escaped your lips as
you walked on.
A loud thunk pierced the silence, and your mother took a step
back. She would have stumbled into you, but you—almost as if
anticipating this motion, as if you’d wandered the darkness so
many times that you knew the location of every obstacle—you
stepped back at the same moment as she; giving no sign of alarm.
Your impassive expression could be glimpsed even through the
shrouded veil of darkness that seemed to eddy and swirl through
the air, hanging thickly like murky water. Indeed, it was the
darkness that seemed to captivate you most; as your mother
turned around to apologize, she found your hand stretched out, a
tendril of darkness slipping between your small fingers, and
your face rapt with a bright, intelligent inquisitiveness. Your
mother’s face was graced by an equally captivated smile, and for
a moment she watched you watch the dark.
But then she put her hand gently on your shoulder, and the two
of you continued; with special care, she led you around the
obstacle and to your destination.
She took an old box off the shelf, and with a slow intake of
breath that was her equivalent of a contented sigh, she blew the
dust off the box and presented it to you.
It was heavy, and you nearly dropped the wooden container. As it
dipped downward, the contents shook and a short-lived rattling
noise could be heard, no doubt raising your curiosity as to the
contents. The wood was smooth, with a polish finish such as the
kind on your mother’s violin, and it is likely that you noticed
the similarity immediately, because you asked your mother, “Is
it for music?”
To which she replied, “No, honey, it’s not. Let’s go find some
light and I’ll show you all about it.”
You followed her up the stairs, quickly picking up on her
excitement. Your intelligent face shown with curiosity—the need
to know.
When you stepped into the light, your eyes carefully scrutinized
the box, looking for clues. You would have found nothing,
though; nothing that made sense, nothing significant about the
box except its alternating light and dark checkered squares.
After a few moments you gave up on trying to determine its
contents; contented with knowing that it would be revealed soon.
A silence almost as palpable as the darkness of the basement
descended upon the two of you, the air ringing with sheer
excitement and expectation.
Finally, when the two of you were resting on the couch, she
carefully opened the checkered box and tilted out its contents
tenderly. They clattered across the table, one falling on the
ground, which you picked up and examined. It seemed to be a
wooden statuette, ornately carved and covered in the same polish
as the box. What it depicted, you didn’t know.
“It’s a game,” your mother announced. “Chess.”
And so began the road to your demise.
#Post#: 2046--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Lemon_Sprinkles Date: February 22, 2014, 11:42 am
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I would read more of this for sure. :D I have never read a book
that was in second person. It really intrigued me. I hope you
write more about this story. :) Maybe put it on Wattpad so
others can read it?
Anyways, great story so far. 8)
#Post#: 2048--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Elephants4Ever Date: February 22, 2014, 11:51 am
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Thanks. ^^ I have put it on wattpad, actually. But I'm kind of
stuck right now... I don't know if I should alternate between
past and present, or continue the story chronologically...
#Post#: 2050--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Lemon_Sprinkles Date: February 22, 2014, 11:58 am
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I would say to continue the story like you have it. It works
that way. :D
#Post#: 2055--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Elephants4Ever Date: February 22, 2014, 12:21 pm
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Thanks. :) I'll go work on it, now.
#Post#: 2057--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Lemon_Sprinkles Date: February 22, 2014, 12:24 pm
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Good luck. ;) What's your Wattpad name?
#Post#: 2060--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Elephants4Ever Date: February 22, 2014, 12:26 pm
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... Elephants4Ever...
I'm not very creative when it comes to usernames, am I? XD
#Post#: 2078--------------------------------------------------
Re: Well... I was experimenting in 2nd person's POV. ^^'
By: Iaashadow Date: February 23, 2014, 6:28 am
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wait waaagh, what's your wattpad?, If you have a full novel I'll
review it
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