Pagey
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2012
- Messages
- 9,460
Hey everyone. I can't remember if I've posted this before (apologies if I have), but I just wanted to share the first page of my novel, hopefully get some feedback!
You'll probably guess what the main theme is pretty easily.
The blood is flowing out of the open wound on the naked forehead sprawled out across the floor laid out at my feet.
Smooth and beautiful, it undulates down the street in a perfect stream of red rivulets - intertwining, the drops completing themselves, destroying themselves too.
Fucking beautiful.
The monster's roaring call has died down to a mere growl which encompasses all the violence and hatred in the world.
The needle lies; mesmerizing. Conveyor of a better world.
The powder, however, doesn't lie. The most pure and honest of all things earthly, it caresses your veins and promises that everything will be all right.
And everything is.
My feet pound across the crimson-bathed floor. They smash open the door. They race through the streets - to a more secluded area where the needle's lies are the way of the universe.
Where the powder prevails.
And this is another little extract from it, a bit farther down in the novel:
Hands witness of an end going back to the beginning.
Purple drops dribbling out.
Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.
Cries of abandon swelling up within.
Venom seeping through the heart.
Trickling down the throat.
Tears a thousand times spent gushing in.
Eyes closed so the pain will stop.
A chest heaving with sighs.
I'd post some longer prose parts but they'd be a bit out of place as, well, it's a continous story.
Hope you like it
You'll probably guess what the main theme is pretty easily.
The blood is flowing out of the open wound on the naked forehead sprawled out across the floor laid out at my feet.
Smooth and beautiful, it undulates down the street in a perfect stream of red rivulets - intertwining, the drops completing themselves, destroying themselves too.
Fucking beautiful.
The monster's roaring call has died down to a mere growl which encompasses all the violence and hatred in the world.
The needle lies; mesmerizing. Conveyor of a better world.
The powder, however, doesn't lie. The most pure and honest of all things earthly, it caresses your veins and promises that everything will be all right.
And everything is.
My feet pound across the crimson-bathed floor. They smash open the door. They race through the streets - to a more secluded area where the needle's lies are the way of the universe.
Where the powder prevails.
And this is another little extract from it, a bit farther down in the novel:
Hands witness of an end going back to the beginning.
Purple drops dribbling out.
Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.
Cries of abandon swelling up within.
Venom seeping through the heart.
Trickling down the throat.
Tears a thousand times spent gushing in.
Eyes closed so the pain will stop.
A chest heaving with sighs.
I'd post some longer prose parts but they'd be a bit out of place as, well, it's a continous story.
Hope you like it
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