Well, here it goes…

It’s almost midnight after a pretty low-key Friday night. And instead of going to bed, I decided that I needed to start a blog where I could share my writings and ramblings about writing with the world (or at least those few that may be interested). Writing fiction is not my profession (although I hope it will be, some day), nor is it even what I’m currently studying. But no matter what else I’m doing in my life, I frequently get an idea for a story, a character, a conflict – and I get the overwhelming urge to write.

I have tried posting a young adult fiction book I wrote chapter by chapter on another blog, but I abandoned the task once I reached a chapter I felt needed heavy revision. I may try to post it again on here, but for now I may just post short stories or scenes here and there, raw without intense editing. (Because, let’s be honest, editing is NOT the fun part, although a necessary evil.)

My characters are usually teenagers or young adults, and my stories have sci-fi, fantasy and/or paranormal themes. If you enjoy these genres, I hope you will enjoy my blog! All comments and *constructive* criticism are welcome.

For now, here is a short piece that involves two characters from a series I’m envisioning. I’m also trying to experiment with different points of view and tenses (usually I stick to third person and past tense, which seems safe), so this one is first person, present tense. This week I’ve been listening to Adam Lambert’s new album, Trespassing, and the song “Chokehold” is definitely their theme song:

“I keep running away, running away, running away from you
But I can’t stand breaking the chains, breaking the chains, breaking the chains
It’s too good, cause I know the second you go
Want you to bring it on back, bring it on back, bring it on back to me
And you know I want your chokehold.”

I’m walking against the crowd pouring out of the high school because I forgot my trigonometry book when I hear someone call my name behind me.

“Ava!” he shouts again before I’m fully turned around, but of course I recognize his voice. He makes his way toward me, a lone punk shark in a sea of preppy minnows. He’s wearing a maroon tie and a black dress shirt that’s not tucked into his black jeans. “I need to talk to you,” he tells me once he catches up to me.

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” I reply curtly, turning on my heel and resuming my walk.

“What?” He sounds genuinely shocked. I don’t even hold the door open for him but he sneaks through behind me.

“Look, the dance was fun,” I say. He’s finally matched my determined stride. “But you didn’t really think this could turn into something, did you?”

For an instant I feel a guilty ache in my chest – my words are coming out colder than I had intended. But then I remind myself that Tyler doesn’t really like me; that he didn’t really want to take me to the Harvest Dance. Celeste used her freaky telepathy to compel him to take me. Because apparently that’s the only way I’m going to get a date to anything, ever.

We’ve reached my locker, and I busy myself with the combination lock, avoiding his piercing hazel eyes.

“I guess I did.” His answer startles me so much that I finally stop and look over at him. His black guyliner emphasizes the intensity and sincerity of his gaze. “I felt something between us. I thought you did, too.”

God, how far had Celeste’s influence gone? I wonder. Did she convince him that he was in love with me, too?

What I hate most is that, as I stand here plotting to hurt him, all I want to do is to brush that stupid lock of his black hair that’s fallen in front of his face. And I want to finish that kiss that got interrupted at the dance.

Instead, I take a deep breath and hold his gaze steadily. “I’m smart. I’m pretty, and I’m popular. How could I ever feel something for some emo kid in a loser punk band?”

My heart is beating so loudly in my chest I wonder if he can hear it. He’s glaring at me now, his jaw jutting out in anger, and if I didn’t know better I might think he was trying to hold back tears. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks again.

“Fuck you,” he says and stomps away from me.

I turn back to my locker, blinking back tears myself. Why do I have to be such a bitch? But it was for his own good, I remind myself. He’ll realize you did him a favor when he comes out of the fog Celeste put him in.

Suddenly, I gasp when I feel someone grab me and spin me around, pinning me against the lockers.

Tyler’s face is inches away from mine.

“Just thought I’d show you what you were missing,” he whispers urgently before he kisses me.

When our lips meet, I have the fleeting thought that I hope the hall is still deserted, but then my mind goes blank, and my body goes limp and tingles as his hands move to my hips. He coaxes my lips apart and deepens the kiss. For a few moments, the tension deserts his body, too, and I think he’s losing himself in me.

I don’t know how long we’ve been kissing when Tyler pulls away. His pale face is stoic, the vulnerability I felt in his kiss gone.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he says to me and stalks away again.

Copyright 2012 by S. L. Stacy