Writer's inspiration

[Dizzy]

Hi! I am putting together my first published work (I have already found a publisher willing to invest in me), a compilation of a lot of my amateur work up to now. This is quite a challenge for me, as some have to be brought up to publishable standard (me being only 15 this will be no mean feat). I am also looking to add a little bit of new material. That's where you come in. Any airsoft story, old army story, or even just something interesting that has happened to you; I want it all! If you are willing for me to write a short story based on it then please post it here. You will get the bonus of getting your name in print (if you give me your name that is), as one of the many people who have, over the years, helped me nurture my talent for writing. So, who's first?

[cpaxton]

Can I read something you have written?

[rizzo]

ditto

[Skarclaw]

I'll give you aload of storys about my time travelling capers with Steven Seagal if you give my 85% of any earnings you make from this book.

[Hillslam]

You went time travelling with Steven Seagal TOO?

[cpaxton]

I thought I was the only one!

[Dizzy]

Ok. Warning, this is long. Written from inspiration from a song by jonney cashe. Reserving all copywrite blah-blah

 

The long black veil

 

She walks these hills in a long black veil,

She visits my grave when the night winds wail,

Nobody knows, nobody sees,

Nobody knows but me.

 

The clock struck ten. Juliet awoke with a start, torn away from the haunting dream, which recently seemed to come before her every time she closed her eyes. She had been running through a graveyard, looking, searching for…something. And as she grew more frantic with every second, she heard the ghostly words coming from everywhere, whisper quiet, and all the louder in her head for that. She was searching through the graves, looking; she could feel she was almost there….but she never reached it, whatever ‘it’ was. She always awoke. It was driving her insane!

 

She sat up in her chair, and looked blearily around her. She had fallen asleep with her book. She looked down at the title, “El Diablo” it read. It didn’t seem likely that it was causing these…well she supposed they were nightmares, although nothing bad seemed to happen. But that was the horror in it, the silent frantic waiting.

 

Just then, there was a loud banging on the door. Juliet looked up. With the tendrils of the dream still in her mind, she quailed away from the sound, remembering she was alone in the house. Her husband Tom had left for the pub to meet someone, she didn’t know who. It was quite strange really, he had got a call on the phone, someone whose voice he said he recognised. He had left a few minutes later, but would not say who it had been.

 

Her train of thought was interrupted again by another hammer-blow on the door. She chided herself; she should be welcoming to whoever it was, regardless of the late hour. However she still hesitated before rising to her feet and shuffling apprehensively towards the door. She looked through the small window set into it. Her heart gave a flutter; there he was! She tried to calm down, but then he caught sight of her in the window and gave her his friendly smile, so full of warmth. She smiled timidly back, and then stepped out of sight, to get the key. What was he doing here? He had never come to the house before. She retrieved the key, and quickly composed herself. Inside her a little voice was crying: “What about your husband? Where is your love for him?”, and she paused for a moment. But, she argued, it would simply be impolite not to answer the door, my feelings have nothing to do with it. Nevertheless she tweaked the top of her nightdress down a little as she walked forward again. She swiftly unlocked the door, and swung it open.

 

He smiled again, silently thanking her. She blushed slightly, realising now just how revealing her nightdress was. Instantly noticing her embarrassment, he averted his eyes slightly, for decency’s sake. That was the think she liked about Rob, he always was polite, always honourable, never brash or rude like Tom. She had met him one time when she was forced to go down to the pub to attempt to stop Tom’s drunken attacks on everyone else in the building. When she got there however, it seemed it was all over; Rob was holding Tom in place gently but firmly, while he talked in a soft, level voice to him. When Rob let him go he just sat down at the bar sullenly, like a schoolboy stopped from having his fun. Before she lugged that ape of a husband of hers home, she had talked with Rob for a while. Soon she felt she had known him all her life, and in some way she had. He reminded her of Tom back when they were young, the strong dependable rock of her life as he was then. Of course this was before he turned to the drink.

 

Then she realised he was speaking, “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Of course,” came his reply, “I was asking if my good friend Tom was home. I need to speak to him.”

She thought quickly, if she said Tom was at the pub, he’d leave, and she felt strongly that that should not happen. “He’s just gone off, I really don’t know where, but I think he might be back soon. Umm, do you want to wait for him?” She cursed herself, she sounded like a common tart. Apprehensively she waited for the indignation, but there was none, he simply said, “Are you sure I won’t be bothering you?” She knew the answer to that at once, “Not at all. Make yourself at home.” She turned to lead him through to the living room, accidentally brushing against him when she passed him, starting her heart fluttering again.

 

She sat, a little self-consciously, in the giant armchair that dominated the room. She was in it at Rob’s insistence; he had taken one of the smaller chairs at her side instead. She was slightly confused about what she was going to do tonight. She knew what she wanted, craved, but was it worth cheating on her husband? After a few agonising seconds, she realised it was. And anyway (she reasoned to herself), it was all Tom’s fault regardless. If he hadn’t been the drunken lout that he was she wouldn’t have even met Rob let alone…loved him? She put that idea away; it raised far too many troubling questions. But anyway, she had decided to follow her heart, the only question was, how to bring it about?

 

“More wine Mr. Gareth?” asked Juliet, proffering the bottle.

“Please call me Rob, I hate being so formal,” said Rob, smiling.

 

She was surprised at the fact he was so coherent and well spoken, considering the amount of alcohol she had been pressing upon him. But when she leaned over to refill his glass, she did notice that his eyes had a slightly unfocused look. Then he spoke, “You are a very beautiful woman, Juliet.” Her heart gave a leap, but he had not finished, “But, I cannot… I mustn’t betray Tom. He has been a good friend to me; I will not repay him in this way.” She breathed in sharply, shocked, “W-what ever can you mean?” She asked, knowing of course the answer already. “I mean to ask you not to try and do whatever you were intending of doing. I’m sorry.” He smiled sadly at her, and got up to leave. She began to rile up in indignation at what he was suggesting, but then a little voice in her head reminded her that he was right. That was what she had been trying. “I’m sorry.” She heard herself saying, “But don’t leave. I know it was wrong, but stay? I promise I won’t try anything.” Oh God, this was getting out of hand. She should just stop right now. But as he turned, and sat back down in the chair, she felt that last vestiges of her conscience melt away. She had her eye on the prize, and she was going to get it.

 

A few hours and another bottle of wine later, she realised it was time. She stood up, and walked slowly, confidently towards him. He looked up, and seeing the look in her eyes started to say, “No…” but then their lips were meeting and he seemed to give up the fight against the inevitable. She broke off, and then, taking his hand, slowly led him upstairs…

 

She walks these hills in a long black veil,

She visits my grave when the night winds wail,

Nobody knows, nobody sees,

Nobody knows but me.

 

A loud knocking of the door woke her from the familiar dream, the words still echoing in her head as she looked over and saw that Rob was gone. Shaking the sleep from her head she fumbled for clothes as whomever it was knocked again. A minute later she was stumbling down the stairs, hoping against hope it was Rob. Last night she had realised, she truly did love him. But as she ran to the door she saw through the glass that it wasn’t him, it was the vicar, looking very apprehensive. As she unlocked the door, she wondered why he was here, and then she realised, Tom didn’t come home last night! Now very nervous, she open the door, managing a cheery, “Good morning vicar!”

“Good morning,” Said the small, balding man. “Umm, may I come in? I am afraid I have some bad news.” Juliet was now very nervous indeed. It had to be about Tom! What had happened, she wondered, worried sick. She led the vicar through to the sitting room, and sat down in one of the chairs, watching as he sat down in the one opposite. “Is Tom ok?” She blurted out, and before he had even spoken she saw the truth in his eyes. “I’m afraid…Tom is dead. I am so sorry, Juliet.”

 

She just sat there, completely numb. The Vicar went on, talking fast, as if he wanted to spit the words out as quick as he could, “He was killed outside the pub last night. Rob Gareth was waiting for him, and stabbed him with a knife.” She blinked, she could believe her ears. “Rob Gareth?”

“I’m afraid so. He had been in the pub for a while, then left. Later a number of witnesses saw him running away from the scene. Apparently he had been waiting outside. It was about ten thirty.” The vicar said, sounding as if he too doubted what he was saying. Juliet just was stunned by the fact she had gone to bed with the person who killed her husband! A feeling of deep revulsion filled her, before she realised. Rob had turned up at ten, he was innocent! She opened her mouth to say this to the vicar when she remembered what had happened. Oh god, she wanted to speak but she couldn’t. She had to speak to Rob. “W-where is he now?” She asked, thinking she could run and tell him what he was being accused of. But the vicar’s heavy-hearted voice spoke, “I’m afraid he has already been arrested, he has been hung; wait!” The last part was a shout as Juliet had, by instinct, jumped to her feet and was already halfway to the door. “Wait my child. Please. There is more. He...confessed to me.” Her breath caught, that meant… “I know my child. I know. I pleaded with him to speak out his innocence, to live but he simply said that I must give you this.” He handed her a piece of paper.

 

Dearest Juliet,

 

I am sorry. I am sorry for giving in to temptation, I am sorry I abused both your and your husband’s trust. Tom died, while I was indulging the most base of lusts with his own wife. I shall at least spare him the indignity of telling the world, and I shall suffer my punishment in death. Goodbye, fair Juliet.

 

Rob

 

Juliet screamed, all the worry and sadness and shock welled up inside her and she screamed with the weight of the world. Then, ignoring the vicar’s cry, she ran, ran as fast as she could from the room, from the house. Tears ran down her cheeks as she ran, down the hill as fast as she could. She saw before her the church looming, and then the graveyard was before her, the darkness of night swirling around her as she entered. She was running, frantically looking for she knew not what. She ran through the empty graveyard until suddenly she tripped, and found herself falling, falling, falling into a newly dug open grave. As the life force ebbed from her body, she heard the words on the cusp of hearing:

 

She walks these hills in a long black veil,

She visits my grave when the night winds wail,

Nobody knows, nobody sees,

Nobody knows but me.

 

 

 

Tom and Rob found her the next day, her face drenched with tears and twisted into a horrific grimace. No one knew what she had been doing, late at night in her funeral veil, in the middle of the abandoned graveyard.

 

Nobody knows but me.

[Hardcore_Mitsuko]

jonney cashe? Deliberate mis-spelling?

[Dizzy]

jonney cashe? Deliberate mis-spelling?

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Maybe...

 

Nah, just had to type it from memory, can't remember how to spell it. So, what did you think?

[tommywing]

It reads well, perhaps add more description of the pub and locations generally though, as it does not give off much of a sense of placement.

 

She turned to lead him through to the living room, accidentally brushing against him when she

passed him, starting her heart fluttering again.

 

This is a bit Mills & Boone-esque surely heatrs can do other things than just flutter?

 

Other than that not bad, keep it up. They say you have to write a million words of rubbish before you write anything good!

 

Good luck

Nobody knows but me.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

[Sledge]

Soooo... I give you the basis for a story, which is then published. You make money off this, whereas I can now never use it if I ever manage to get published.

 

Sounds like a great deal!

 

[DarkLite]

Soooo... I give you the basis for a story, which is then published. You make money off this, whereas I can now never use it if I ever manage to get published.

 

Sounds like a great deal!

 

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

QFT.

 

Your work is good, albeit a bit short for a story like that.