Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby avalanche_of_elysium » Tue Dec 07, 2010 9:57 am

jmeml517 - That prompt is goooooooood! I think you did a great job, even though I dislike "Gone With the Wind." Although more precisely, I think Scarlet was annoying.

Excellent writing!

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby jmeml517 » Thu Dec 09, 2010 7:13 am

Thank you so much!!! (And while I love Gone with the Wind, I can definitely see why you might think Scarlet is annoying. She never learns!) :)

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby kendra ann ziems » Thu Dec 09, 2010 10:03 am

I clocked out at work amongst the huddle of stammering hens and their redundant complaints acting like I needed to get home quick. The drive home from work was always refreshing; the silence of the country roads outside of the city. Sometimes I’d crank up the stereo and no one, not even me, would hear my off-tune mental purge.

Today was a swim-day; mom was waiting in the driveway for me. However much I didn’t like her nauseating driving, I was too worn after the long day to chauffeur. The swim was great and the winter air on our way out felt refreshing. While mom unlocked the car, I stood taking in the crisp wind. I noticed bright yellow paint scratched into the side of mom’s car. She went inside to call the police. A ferocious humming came shifting into the parking space in front of me. A silver Volvo. In one swift movement a sophisticated man stepped out.

“Sorry about the accident. My sister was in a hurry, family emergency. She saw your mother’s decision to sue and wanted to make amends” he handed me a fashionable red beaded purse full of cash. I handed it to my raving mom and she accepted without question. I tried to be polite while my mom was tapping her fingers; her show was coming on soon and she was growing impatient.

“You like the cold weather?” he asked. His familiar layered brown hair highlighted magically in the hazy winter sky, his eyes a sultry golden brown. My heart skipped with acknowledgement followed by his smirking grin.

“I love all things cold” I answered, unsettled by my off screen attraction to him. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his ability to hypnotize my common sense.

“I’m Edward”. I wasn’t sure why he said it; I was sure he knew I knew who he was, as a picture of his face was plastered on my backpack.

“Oh, I’m Kendra. Nice to meet you” I sputtered.

“Would you like a ride home?” Edward asked.

“That would be great”, I irresponsibly answered. I wondered what his significant other would think of this. I hoped mine wouldn’t be mad; I thought he might be somewhat excited actually, although he was on the other team.

Edward threw my bags into the huge trunk of his Volvo. I told mom to go on without me, Edward would take me home. She mumbled her disagreements with the Twilighting phenomenon and swerved away to be in time for Dancing with the Stars.

Edward opened the door for me and in seconds was sitting in the driver’s seat. The stereo was blaring Supermassive Black Hole; I wondered if he had been singing along. His supernatural hearing and all, he started talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word. We reached to turn down the volume at the same time and our hands touched; his skin was ice cold! He withdrew quickly and pulled over.

“I guess you know what I am” Edward whispered with a disgusted look on his face, like he was trying to actually breathe in the southern Illinois humidity.

“Yes” my voice quivered.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he smarted.

“Not so much” I answered wondering if he could see my thoughts or if he was just being arrogant.

“Then ask me what I eat!” he demanded.

“Hey! I read all four volumes, Edward! Even the ‘Short Life’ novella. I’m on your team!” I carefully patted his stony shoulder and showed off my Cullen bracelet.

“Then say it. I want to be sure. Say it…out loud!” his sexy British accent, high cheekbones and smoldering golden eyes drew me into his alluring vampire trap. I sat helpless in my fan-struck awe as the streetlight sparkled on his face, neck and chest. His intense gaze accompanied with a scrunched forehead awaited my verbal response.

“Edward…” I sighed.

“Say it! Out loud!” he moved closer to me, his lips (and teeth) just inches from my carotid.

“Edward…you’re so freakin fast, you can read minds, you’re ice cold, your skin’s sparkly and your eyes are a fascinating gold, thank goodness, but…” my heart raced searching for the right words.

“What? Say it!” his breath tickled at my pulse and I prepared for the possible searing venom and flashbacks of my boring life.

“Edward, sweetheart, you’re just a fictional character. There aren’t any Volvo dealerships locally…and well, if you trade me seats I’ll show you, I can drive like a Cullen too!”

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby mercedes » Mon Jan 10, 2011 12:59 pm

As I sat sipping wine and being carried away by the music wafting through the air, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place. The lights that bathed these ancient stones in their golden splendor, the fountains bubbling and gurgling in cadence with the music, and the lovers here and there, lost in absolute devotion, made this small, Italian piazza seem like heaven.

My first time in Italy has certainly not been a disappointment. It was everything I had ever thought it would be. On this particular evening my mind and heart were carried away by the beauty and harmony of it all.

I sat, lost in the strings of the violins, when an interesting figure caught my eye. A man, sitting near the fountain, apparently troubled and melancholy, peeked my interest. Why did it seem like I knew him? It must be the wine, I thought. But yet, his demeanor was familiar though perhaps a bit unusual. As he sat in his velvet, black cloak with his thick black head of hair, I couldn’t help but feel as if I were drawn to him somehow.
I mustered the courage to stroll over towards the fountain, positioning myself at a safe distance. He sat, deep in thought, staring into the sparkling waters cascading out of the serpents’ mouth while twirling a tiny piece of hair in his fingertips.

Why did he seem so familiar?

“Excuse me sir. Are you o.k.? I mean, is there anything I can do for you?” I stammered.
His thoughts were broken as he stood instantly to his feet, bowing with his perfectly aristocratic manners and said “No Madame, Thank you. I have lost something of great value to me, but I see it is not here. I am only thinking what to do next.”

Suddenly it struck me as my voice whispered “Edmund? Is it Edmund Dante’s?”

His face went abruptly sullen as he replied, “No Madame, I am afraid you have me confused with another man. I am the Count. The Count of Monte Cristo and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
My hands trembled, my knees became weak and all of my faculties deserted me. Yet in his beautiful French accent accompanied by his gentle, gracious behavior, he excused himself.

As he walked away in quiet thought, he turned and spoke. “Madame. If ever it is your unfortunate destiny to lose something you love, search for it at all cost, for your heart will not rest until it finds it.”

I stood mesmerized, lost in thought when my mind finally grasped what had just taken place. The Count of Monte Cristo had just answered the one question I had always had. Now my mind was at rest.

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby lway » Fri Jan 14, 2011 5:02 am

Excellent descriptive narrative

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby theSkilled » Sun Mar 06, 2011 2:11 pm

"You look familiar." I said taking a long drag of my cigarette. I had become hooked on these things even though I recognized the dangers of smoking. My head felt heavy and I swayed back and forth.  

Long hours at the office, I suppose?

"How did you know that?" I asked in alarm. He laughed and rested his hand on my shoulder.

Aren't you going to invite me to sit down?

Looking around the bar I could only see one other person, a drunk no doubt, passed out cold on a couch in the far hand corner. I nodded.

How's it been going, princess?

My eyes bulged. "T-that's my nickname!" I stammered. The bar seemed to close in and the music faded. It was just the two of us in the middle of time; wedged in between two parralel universes. "How'd you know that was my nickname?"

Answer my question first.

This was becoming too odd and I wanted to stand up; I couldn't.

Stay awhile. I've missed you. Haven't you thought to give me a call? I'm just that far away: a call.

I felt bloated and I swirled around the beer in my glass. "Why haven't I called you?" Although it would seem like I was just repeating his question I was really asking myself. "I know you, don't I? Yes, I suppose I do." I tried to reach back into my memories but the alchohol made my mind a blur and everything squished together like a cloud of fog drifting across a lake in the early morning. Where had I seen his face? This was bugging me so I reached into the recceses of my deepest, darkest past. This made me remember my faults and realize my mistakes. I hadn't called my mother, I never apologized to my best friend and if I was to die at that very moment my life wouldn't have counted. This conversation turned my whole life around.

Of course you know me!

I was back in the bar with the snoaring drunk. The bartender approached me with my bill. I snuffed out my cigarrette and vowed never to smoke or drink again.

After all, you created me.

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby KingRalph » Mon Mar 28, 2011 2:58 pm

Jack Edwards, the long-time family friend and owner of the largest funeral company in our town approached me and whispered reassuring words softly in my ear.

I shook my head. "I can not do it this time. It is too much for anyone."

Perhaps his smile was healing for some, but not for me. When he softly took my arm, I flinched.

"Be strong," he said. "Make your folks proud of you one more time."

This was the fourth funeral he and I had attended together in three years---all immediate family members. Now, at 19, I am the only surviving member of my family. My older brother Samuel was killed by friendly fire in the war. About a year later, my youngest sister Susan, struggling with severe depression, had killed herself. My oldest sister Joan, who had been born with a serious heart condition and died six months later.
I had somehow managed to survive each of those most difficult funerals, but now it was too much . . . now it was my parents. Both of them. Killed by a drunk driver in broad daylight.

As humans manage to do, I survived. My own exit was well-planned. As the limousine slowly left the cemetery, I yelled for the driver to stop. "I'm getting out. You go ahead," I told them. "I will be fine."

Walking alone back to the grave site as the other cars respectfully departed proved to be challenging. I saw 'it' ready for me. The chair that I had requested that be left empty for me. I sat. Soon, everyone was gone and I was finally alone, but that did not last long.

Two adorable bunny rabbits were running around in circles, twitching their noses as they spotted me. I never thought that I would smile again, but in only minutes, I smiled.
Foolishly, I held out my hand, palm down. To my amazement, both rabbits moved closer. I stared. The stared back.
"Hello," I found myself saying, just before I realized how stupid I now felt.

"Hello son," said the larger of the two rabbits. Then "Hello darling," from the smaller one.

Clearly I was hallucinating over the grief of losing my parents, and yet I had heard them. I had heard them both say hello. I really had.

We stared at each other once again. Longer this time, and our smiles were bigger and brighter, as was my spirit alive once again.

And then the smaller one said, "Darling, we will always be with you, but before we go, you need to know that the government needs us once again. You see, we could never tell you before . . . " Now, your father must tell you one parting thing. When he finished, we will leave you at peace, but we shall return.

He began, "Never fear for us, and never fear for yourself. We are with you forever." And then in his marvelous Scottish accent, my father, I mean the larger rabbit continued, "Remember son, always drink martinis shaken and never stirred."

And they were gone . . . for now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you happen to wish to hear more of the adventures of Maud and Claude, do let me know.....and by all means remember that the next time you SEE a rabbit, do smile at him or her. One never knows........

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Re: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby KingRalph » Tue Mar 29, 2011 6:17 am

I am new here, new to writing........and I LOVE it! Please be kind enough to let me know what you think after reading any of my writing. I'm here to LEARN and appreciate your time.
Thanks so much in advance.

Bridget O' Brady
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Re: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby Bridget O' Brady » Fri Apr 01, 2011 4:16 pm

"So what is your story?" the girl with curly blond hair that stood over me asked.
"Let's start with yours first," I say to her.
She looked nice enough but after the day's events you can never be to sure.
"That would take awhile," she replied as she helped me off the floor. "I'm Annabeth," the girl introduced. "Daughter of Athena, and long-term resident of Camp Half-Blood, Long Island, New York," Annabeth said. I could already tell she was truthful or a very good liar for she bore an orange T-shirt that said, Camp Half-Blood on it. Annabeth also wore a necklace with eight charms stringed on it, the one that stuck out was the fourth one that was a black bead with a blue trident on it.
"Alright, well, it doesn't look like your to bruised up," Annabeth said. "Lets go outside and to the camp." Annabeth led me outside and I boarded a large hot air balloon.
"Athena?" I said and all of a sudden an owl appeared over my head. Annabeth looked at me oddly, "That never happens until we get to camp,oh, and hello sister," she replied.

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RE: Your Favorite Fictional Character - 10/5

Postby ctmhellmann » Tue Apr 05, 2011 7:22 pm

I am more then miserable. My leg jitters underneath my skirt, causing my notebook to thump against it as I wait in my new hell hole’s office. The office at Roundveiw College is as bleak as the town its in. Bristol, Roundveiw, the accents, the people, they make me want to save as much money as possible, get a one way ticket, and fly back to America as soon as soon as I can. Even I know that’s impossible, so while I am here, I will try to make the best of it.
The school bell rings, and my new English peers scamper around the hallways, speaking in a slang I can not seem to understand. My heart begins to beat faster and faster as I wait for a student to pick me up and tour me around the college. I feel like I have been waiting forever, like this person has been taking his or her sweet time. I can not wait to see him or her, because right now I feel like running away.
As I begin to gather my belongings and figure my way home, a tall dark haired boy bumps into me, causing me to spill all of my belongings. “ Are you the new American student Candace?”, he asks. As I gaze into his beautiful eyes, I stutter my reply and give him the most charming smile I can give. Under his breath he laughs and continues to say “ My name is Tony Stonem, and I am here to show you around Roundveiw College.” I nod, and as he opens the door and directs me to the left down a corridor, I can’t help but to want to know more about him.
This Tony Stonem seems to have everyone under a spell. He casually walks down the corridors, making eye contact with every female that walks by. He deeply rumbles hello to his peers and nod his head at faculty members. With every step, I begin to realize Mr. Popularity is giving me my tour. As the next bell rings, and the students run to their classes, Tony and I are left in the middle of a hallway, facing double doors that seem to scream freedom. With his hands in his pockets, he rocks his body towards mine and ask “Soon enough you will learn your way around Roundveiw, but have you yet had a tour of Bristol?”. I shake my head slowly, grinning from ear to ear, and then with a quick burst of energy we both run though the double doors, through the schools lawn, and out of the schools jurisdiction.
We cross some streets, and then enter into a pub, and walk to a table of people who seem to be close in age to us. He immediately sits down and begins making out with a girl who I find out is named Michelle Richardson. After meeting the others named Sid Jenkins, Jal Fazer, Maxxie Oliver, and Chris Miles, I begin to learn more about the college, the town, and each individual more and more. I quickly let my guard down, and realize the people of Bristol are not as foreign, and I thought they were. Time passes, cigarettes are smoked, and beers are drank, and I feel more at home then in any place I have moved to before. The craziness of these new characters in my life cause me to become more and more excited for the year ahead, and the memories I know will occur.


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