Post 1

Alrighty! So here is post number one after spring break!
I woke up this morning to the soothing sound of rain dripping on the roof, and then got up and went to breakfast with my cousin. Yesterday's weather was absolutely gorgeous! I wore short sleeves, and I wasn't cold! It was so awesome. I got a nap in-which is nice because I worked 30 hours last week, and I really needed it.
I got absolutely nothing done writing-wise over spring break, so I made a point of writing for awhile this morning. I wrote Sarah Seleky's prompt. You guys should all check her out. She really stimulates the brain.

Today’s Prompt: Write a scene that goes backwards in time. Start at the end, and finish at the start.

As the tears dripped from her eyes, falling like snowflakes on the cold face of her dying friend, Isabel knew two things: first, this was not supposed to have happened. Second, she would have revenge.

+

When Isabel fell to the ground, gasping for breath in this new world, she smiled. Looking around, she found herself in a completely different time than 3162. She glanced over at Marcol who was grinning up at the sky like a newborn. He threw his arms around her and lifted her up, spinning her around.

“We did it!” He bellowed, laughing excitedly. Isabel joined him in his glee and together they ran down the hill they had appeared on.

A stone appeared in front of Isabel’s toe, tripping her down. She squealed and Marcol launched himself after her. They both rolled down the hill, giggling like children. When they reached the bottom, Isabel looked over at him, a smile touching her eyes. His own were closed, and a radiant smile still decked his face.

She reached over, pressing a hand to his tanned cheek. “We did it,” she whispered, “We did it.”

When his smile grew no larger, and his voice did not echo in her own ears, Isabel said his name.

“Marcol?” No answer. “Marcol? Come on, this isn’t funny.” Her smile fading, she touched his inner wrist with her thumb, pressing hard, searching for a pulse. Dimly receding, it knocked back into her skin.

Isabel lifted his head up onto her lap. She yelled his name over and over, and when he finally opened his eyes, he smiled, lifted his hand to her face, and closed his eyes again. She glanced down his form, and found a hole, blooming with his hot blood. She could hardly feel the warmth seeping into her clothes as he gave his last breath in this new world.

“Don’t leave me...” she pleaded.

And as the tears dripped from her eyes, falling like snowflakes on the cold face of her dying friend, Isabel knew two things: first, this was not supposed to have happened. Second, she would have revenge.

So there you have it. My prompt for today. If any of you guys decide to write that prompt from today, I would love love love to read what you have. Thanks so much for reading. :)
I wrote quite a bit of poetry last week, so check me out on hellopoetry,com. My name is Marisa Lu Makil, and I would love love to read any of your poetry if you already have an account. :) Thanks again for reading! I love every one of you guys!
Please like this post, subscribe, and follow me!

I wish you every blessing this week!

He who testifies to these things says, "Yes, I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
-Revelation 22: 20

Sniper Part 8

Part...8 I think of Sniper. I am getting into it again. Haha I am excited for the next scene. Can't wait to finally resolve everything. There will probably be only a couple more parts to Sniper. Then I will have to find something else to write. I can honestly say that I haven't had this much fun writing in a long time. Thanks to all of you who keep coming back for more. You make this worth the work. I may never publish a book, and I may never meet any of you, but if no one ever sees these, I know that you guys have. One-Thousand, Two-Hundred people have seen my stories, and that's enough for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Enjoy.

Part 8, Sniper

“I can’t see anything.” Panic splashed through Anabelle’s words. “I can’t see anything!” She screamed.

Torment pulsated through her body, drawing her howls further into the void that was her prison.

When her eyes opened, she saw only a blood-drenched version of reality.

Blood. Blüd. He was here. He was here and he was hurting them. Everyone. The screams. The screams.

Over and over Anabelle cried out Alex’s name, hoping he had escaped so he could save her again. Guilt poured into her like a waterfall. He had already saved her several times over; by no means was he obligated to do it again.

He had no reason to.

“No one is coming for you, my dear.” as if reading her mind, Blüd spoke the words that she was too afraid to put to thought herself.

He kept coming back. She couldn’t shake his voice from her head. Her words quaked when she spoke. “Let me die.” she rasped. Even speaking sent showers of pain cascading over her body.

Blüd laughed that terrifying laugh again.

“Please,” she whispered, “Please let me die.”

“Never.” The syringe was dripping again, hovering inside her pale skin, trickling liquid into her bloodstream, slowly draining her of her life blood.

She knew the dreams would come soon. She could see them in the corners of her eyes, the breath that shallowly emerged from her rising chest. She heard them in the rasp of her voice and in the creak of the door as it opened and closed.

Despite the panicked thoughts that streaked through her mind, one kept materializing. She had to escape. She had to live. When her mother had died, her father had drowned in drink. He never really came back up. She had to survive. Her death would be the end of her father. She couldn't leave him like that. Memories zipped through her mind: her father stumbling into the house after a night of drinking, her mother lying pale and dead on the bed that had once been white-now covered in red blood. And Alex.

She had to help him. She had to find Alex.

Anabelle wrenched her arms up and winced as she felt the old leather bite into her already-raw wrists.

Pain erupted from her throat in a scream. With everything she had, she threw her arms up and dug her nails into the restraints. A crack snapped through her ears and the pain grew into something worse than she had ever felt. She stumbled from the bed.

The lock turned. she struggled behind the door, gripping the wall to steady herself. The door opened, concealing her, and as the figure entered, she slammed the door. The man cried out as the structure slammed into his unprotected temple. Cradling his punctured skull, he turned on her.

Anabelle quickly swiveled out the exit, shutting the man in. He yelled incomprehensibly and banged on the metal separating them.

She spun around. Three choices. Left. Right. Forward. Where did she go now?

+

The boat rumbled underneath Alex’s pained feet, causing him to shift uncomfortably from side to side. His heard thrummed in his chest. Anabelle was close and he knew exactly where she was. Blüd Enterprise. The old building where all this started.

James had wanted to come, but his legs were getting worse, and there was no way he could have come with them without slowing them down. No, this was something he had to do alone. Unaided.

Water splashed up into his face. Alex sighed with pleasure as the drops cooled his fevered face. The air that rushed into him blew his face back from his eyes, giving him a heroic look that he didn’t feel.

An hour later, he arrived. Stepping onto the land, he gazed up at the once-glorious construct. Gloomy boards covered the shattered glass windows, nails protruding from the ends. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the rescue. He went over his plan: Get Anabelle, get Simon, get out.

Then, a scream shot through the air. His eyes flew open, and he jumped into action.

Sniper Part 2

Hey, everyone!

So I got a bit more work done on the story last night when I decided to be a loner and go to dinner along. :) I find that I work better when there is a little noise in the background, and when I can write it all on paper-or, in this case, a napkin. I wrote a ton! I completely filled the napkin. That was the only reason I stopped.

On another topic, I have seen some new activity on the blog!!! Welcome one and all! Thanks so much for reading! Ask any other viewers. I love my followers. ;)

So here's the next part of the story! I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!!! (Which was a ton, by the way) ;)

Part 2, Sniper

Anabelle awoke, the ringing pain again enveloping her, threatening to drag her back down into the recesses of its warm blackness. She did not attempt to sit up, remembering the results of the previous morning.

“Who are you?” She could see the man walking around the room and look up when she addressed him.

“You can call me Alex.”

She noted his soft purr of a voice and hated it instantly. Her eyes darted back to the ceiling and closed.

“What’s yours?”

They shot back open. She bit her lower lip. “Anabelle. Why did you take me here? Where are we?”

He turned back to his tasks without a reply. He came to her bedside moments later, with a syringe. She struggled to move away, but the pain roared back into her skull and she gave up. He pressed it gently into the bend of her arm, and she heard his now-distant voice whisper,

“This will help you sleep. Goodnight...Anabelle.”

+

“You have got to stop doing that to me!” Anabelle said outrageously when she awoke the next morning.

“It was necessary for you to rest. Now that you are awake, would you like something to eat?”

Anabelle frowned and sat up a little, the pain having mellowed to a throb. “What time is it?”

“Eleven AM. The shooting was four days ago.” Alex set a plate in her lap. She glanced down at it with a sigh. Bread and...bread…

“Really? This is what you call breakfast?”

“No,” he said, turning, “That’s your breakfast. Anything more than that and your body will reject it.”

She glared at him. “What do you know about my body?”

“Plenty!” he retorted. Then blushed and looked at the floor. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“That’s crap.” She said. She looked away and felt the plate lift from her lap. Momentarily, another took its place. A heavenly smell wafted into her nose.

Bacon, eggs and a slice of hot bread smothered in melted butter with a glass of warm milk.

A bite went down. Two. Four.

“Be careful. Don’t eat too fast.”

Anabelle looked up to see him observing her while eating his own breakfast. She scooped more in. After a couple more bites, her stomach protested. Her now-repulsive-looking breakfast spilled over her front. Alex was at her side in moments, collecting it in a bucket, one hand on her back, the other bracing the bucket. Once her spasms had resolved, her eyelids fell shut and she looked up into his face.

“You can say ‘I told you so’ now.”

He looked back at her as he wiped her forehead with a warm cloth. “I don’t believe in unnecessary spite.”

She rolled her eyes. He moved away and washed his hands. She cringed. They would both smell like puke now, she thought with remorse. He caught her eyes on him and nodded his head at her.

She breathed heavily once and lifted her eyebrows. “Any chance I could get a shower? Maybe I could wash my dress, too. I’d rather not smell like throw-up for however long I’m here.”

Alex helped her off the cot and let her to a room with wooden panels on the floor and a wooden spout gushing water that flowed from the wall.

Throw your clothes out when you are in. I’ll wash them while you are busy. Soap is on the ledge on the wall.” He left.

Anabelle let loose a deep breath and combed her fingers through her scraggly hair. She lifted her dress up and over her head and once unclothed, tossed her garments out the door, and stepped under the spout. A steaming torrent of hot water burned over her body, causing her to smile with pleasure, then gasped when it washed the dried blood from her wounds, turning the water to a clear red. She glanced down at her side. Ten neat stitches lined her hip. Crusted red still stuck, so she rubbed her fingers with soap and, biting her tongue, dug her fingers into the wound, scrubbing it thoroughly with soap. She cried out, and her eyes smarted, but finally it was done. She sat down on the wooden panels, letting the water flow over her skin and wash away the grime and sweat.

+

An hour later, she emerged, the room full of steam. She wiped the vapor from a shard of broken mirror. Her hair was tangled, and her face was pale. Red scratches lined her arms and legs. Tears began to fall down her face. A sob emerged. She jumped when someone knocked on the door.

“Anabelle? Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m washed. Where are my clothes?”

A pause. “They aren’t quite dry. I’m putting some clothes through the door.”

Anabelle stepped back behind the door while he laid them on the counter, then shut the door behind him. She looked through the clothes. A man’s shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans. So he had girls jeans (why-ever that may be) but he didn’t have a shirt? She sighed again. She seemed to have been doing that a lot lately. It was a long time before she put the clothes on and walked out.



Thanks so much for reading! I had a great time writing this, so I hope you all liked it!!!

Now that that's done, I haven't gotten any emails about the challenge I issued a bit ago!! What's up with that??? Haha I hope none of you *gasp* forgot to do it! Oh dear. Haha well, if you have not seen my post about the challenge, I posted it on October 25, and I wanted all of you to walk up to strangers on the sidewalk on your way to school, work etc. and start a conversation. Please email, comment, chat me! I would love to hear from you.

Now, sadly I have to end the post here. My cat is pleading for attention. :)

Have a great week! I hope to add more tomorrow, maybe. :)

Blessings.

Sniper Part 1

Hey, everyone. Sorry for the delay in posting the story. I haven't gotten as much done as I had hoped. Haha.

I had a good weekend, lots of stuff to do, and another full weekend coming up. I am loving the beautiful weather conditions; yesterday was absolutely gorgeous, in the seventies, and sunny.
So I have only about a page and a half of the story, but I thought I would post it anyways. You guys deserve it for being so patient. :) If you guys have ideas about where it should go, please email me or comment. I am open to suggestions. :)

Sniper

The violin wailed pleasantly in Annabelle Lochton’s ear as she toned herself to the music, slowly adding in her own part, a crescendo, and a new tune, dancing playfully with the other instruments. They created a beautiful melody, but she could hear none of it. There may have been other people on the stage, but in her mind, with her eyes shut tight, there was only her. She paused, slowly dying out, and then moments later coming back in. A harp joined the song, and she smiled to herself.

This was perfection.

A shot rang next to her, and a searing pain roared up her shoulder. Another pierced her back, and her lips opened in a silent scream. She did not make a sound as she fell to the floor, and the last thing she saw was her mahogany violin falling to the wooden stage, blood splattered on the front, and the strings humming a sad note.

+

Black.

Black around her

Black underneath her

But then there was red. She remembered the red. Blood.

She fell again back into sleep’s deep embrace.

+

When Annabelle woke, she found that the rigid blacks had faded to not-pleasant browns and greens. She sat up swiftly, crying out as searing pain shot up her arm and into her head. Panic took her over. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed on which she lay and slid off the side, nearly falling before a tanned hand pressed her gently back into the blanket.. She struggled against him, increasing the pain in her shoulder, but subdued when the pain came to be too much. The momentum of her surrender sent her falling back onto the cushions, and releasing another burst of pain into her spine.

“Sorry.” the man muttered. He began to walk around the room, gathering things; a bottle here, a rag there, and finally coming to rest at her bedside. He lowered the shoulder of her shirt, exposing her skin to the unknown man. Her first instinct was to bat away his hands, but when he put a needle into her arm, she felt weak and sunk lower into her bed. The dim light allowed her little vision of her captor. She watched silently as he peeled back her shirt, and dabbed a cloth at the accumulating blood. She gritted her teeth. The rag came away red. The man finished his work and bandaged her shoulder well, tightly, but not too tightly.

“Rest.” he said, quietly, “You have been shot.”

No?! she thought to herself. I’ve been shot?!

She closed her eyes and did her best to rest, but found that sleeping in a place where you do not know is more than slightly unnerving, and found little rest in the burrow. She looked around as she was unable to move much. She finally found a digital clock and found the time to be around 3 AM just before she fell asleep.

+

Thanks so much for reading. I already have a back story for most of the people, but again, if you have any ideas about where it should go, or anything that you think would make it more interesting, please let me know.

Thanks again. :)

Have a blessed week. Lord-willing, I will post again soon,

<3