A written discourse: Glimpse into an unfinished story.

I started writing a story about Ceryse when I was fresh out of college.When building up her character, I decided she was a happy girl, in her early 20's. Average looking with a gorgeous smile, not too smart, but very bubbly. She was the kind of person one likes & admires because she brings happiness into everything she does. Ceryse likes bright colors, corny movies (gone with the wind), & friends re-runs. After an event (a party of some sort), she is attacked. Beaten & raped, she is left for dead in an alley. She threads between life & death.

The story is mainly snippets of her present (lover, passion, Mother) & her past (Father leaving, mother's struggles, sweetness of childhood).

I don't know if I will ever finish it, I have so many other writing projects at this moment. Some that are so exciting, I'm smiling just thinking about them. LOL.

I know, I know. I'm such a N@rd.

Here's an excerpt...

*

When I awoke, I felt the tingling of my limbs and the numbness in my lungs. My skin was cannibalistic, its cells annhilating the body of the epidermis, burning my physical self into oblivion. My lips were drained and parted, scarlet from the terminal rush of blood, before his sallow hands bound my fate.
The last wisp of essence echoed through me and succumbed to the vaccum of death. The beast was cleaning up his tracks, like a hunter that eludes scavengers, to keep them away from his prey's carcass. I was melting into the cement, the fresh blood seeping into the cracks, I was to be eternalized in the concrete jungle.
My remains were barely covered by a carmine dress; the straps were ripped from their seams and the bottom was hitched across my hips and a sinuous line of blood run down my winsome thighs. Red.Red. Red.
My arms were tangled thin and bleached, like languini pasta. The breathlessness sucked away the golden hue of my skin, replacing it with a cadavreous grey. My face looked like the crumpled side of the moon and the bruises were my craters.
He,the thief of light, murdered me. His hands were draped around my neck, sucked the breath out of me. Our eyes locked, his were glowing with an inhumane eroticism, while mine were burning with the knowledge of imminent death.
My nails searched his skin and dug into its palid tenderness, withdrawing the beasts’ blood. My knees buckled under the tearing thrusting of his penis inside my womb. ‘Nooo’ a guttaral sound escaped my throat. ‘Pleassseee, I-I-I beg of you...’
Before my eyes closed, my last sensations were the thumping of his fist on my face, the lack of oxygen, the harrowing pounding within my womanhood and a jest of his spoiled nectar bathing inside of me.
The darkeness unveiled itself, swallowing me whole. I must be dead, because only death can feel this peaceful.

*