Writing is art too.
 

I wrote this on a random inspiration one day and I would like to know what others think about it. I was thinking of extending the story although it already feels complete. Any critique is welcome:


The dead bolt settling in sounded like a gunshot. I heard her voice rise up in a scream of terror but it quickly perished inside of her throat before ever reaching her full, pink lips. The lingering taste of my gun no doubt reminded her of the threats I made to her, of the people I promised would suffer should I ever find out what wimper from her sounded like. I turned to her and my eyes hungrily devoured the image she shot back at me. Even in the poor lighting, her pale skin seemed to glow. Her black skirt was bunched up and hugging around her hips as if even it feared my presence., I could see her tone, smooth, white thighs and the bottom half of her perky yet petite ass. Her long red hair danced like flames to the beat of her erratic heart as she fought to tear her gaze away from mine. I could see her breasts rise and fall with every shallow breath she stole from the small room. She inhaled so much in every short breath it was as it was her plan to steal the oxygen from my lungs to watch me suffocate and fall dead. Conviced of this, I cracked the window slightly and could have sworn I saw the fire in her eyes dim at the foiling of her desperate plot. I removed my long coat and tossed it over the big leather recliner, confident in my victory.

Watching her beautiful figure squirm awkwardly to sit up straight against the wall was enchanting. With every strained wiggle, another toned muscle flexed and showed itself from underneath her skin as if they were trying to escape her body, escape from me. Her muffled sounds of struggle seemed to reach out and stroke my entire body, their delicate finger nails sending small tickles up my spine. I watched patiently as exhaustion started to settle in. Her will for survival began to fail and slowly the pretty red head slumped down. She looked like a Rose that has been starved of water, drooping and dying yet still sweet smelling and beautiful. The pure helplessness of the situation was all too apparent to her now as she looked up at me but her gaze never ventured toward my own, never dared to lock into mine for fear she would lose all hope. How much time had passed while I stood statuesque, staring at the teary eyed Rose in my shadow? What could have gone through her head? What I wouldn't give to read her desperately crazed mind. I awoke from my trance seamlessly as if just coming to a conclusion on what to do next. She seemed to have calmed down but her mind was obviously racing behind her bloodshot eyes. It excited me to think that she had a hope to escape, that there was a way out of what was going to happen. The thought of her hope being snuffed out long ago without her knowledge got me off. The feeling was exhilarating as I knelt down next to her. When that little body of hers cowered away from me and shivered in the eighty-seven degree room, she ignited such a passion inside that I nearly got dizzy from the feeling. I inched closer to her while I squatted down like a primate investigating a curious sight, poking and prodding to test the results. "Honey," I whispered, "I want a divorce."

I thought it was a rape fiction there for a second.

Writing is not art. Now go away.

I get it.

Writing may be a form of art using loose terms, but this forum is a much better place for this. Keep that in mind please.

-MLE, Art forum moderator

lol

What if it's fancy writing, like calligraphy or illuminated text?

And on a kind-of-but-not-completely-related note: does anybody write in cursive on a regular basis?

I give it a B-. The ending was clever. Not enough dialogue, too much description.

I had/have the same problem. Be concise with your words. Use less adjectives.

But that's my two cents. There's always gonna be an audience for someone's work just as it is, regardless of what one person thinks.

"Cursive handwriting is the tool of the devil. My handwriting gets 40 rods to the hogshead and that's they way I likes it." -Esuohlim

:)

There's only three instances I can think of right now, that you can get away with not writing in cursive.

1) You're filling in a form of some kind.
2) You're five.
3) You have no face.

I don't. I hate it and I can't read it. I couldn't even read it well after I took it in the third, fourth, and fifth grades. I don't do anything but write my name with it. That said, I can still do it. How many other people can say they remember what a cursive "z" looks like unless they regularly use it.

cursive is the right word, it's a curse upon all humanity >: what the fuck is wrong with writing in a way other people can read

Nowadays the only things you do write out for work are forms, I can't think of a single job that would require you to write things out on paper otherwise. I understand a lot of schools are seriously considering removing cursive from their curriculum because they can't see any pragmatism in it. I personally can't stand cursive, my cursive is so illegible I can't even read it and I have a tendency of unconsciously switching back to print when I try to write in it.

You must be one of them fancy lads.



Man, oh, man I hate them fancy lads.

You asked, mofo. Also, just because some people find something difficult doesn't make it invalid and pointless.

Whoa, a simple Cabin Boy reference doesn't imply any ill will. I'm not a cursive user, but I don't question it's validity.

Mofo is a term of endearment, mofo

:) <-see?

Cursive is for lazy people.

Mofo's be hatin' on dat cursive, my mofo.

Because they don't have to lift those heavy pens off the paper as often.