Kat's Writing Corner

[Katniss]

Decided to have a place to post my assortment of stories when inspiration strikes me.


The Heart is a Fickle Thing

You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue
You touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky
And you decided purple just wasn't for you

- "Colors", by Halsey



He’s a cliché. The kind of guy in those stories who should send you running because because of his past. The kind of guy who breaks hearts while not breaking a sweat. The kind of guy with James Dean looks and a soul like black coffee.

You’ve always been the type to wear your heart on your sleeve. You love strongly and deeply and maybe too much. You’re faced with people’s faults and are willing to brush them back into the cobwebbed corners of your brain with other forgotten memories. You see him and don’t even entertain the thought that this might end in disaster.

He’s a snake charmer of a guy, really. Makes your knees go weak and your heart flutter with the exact words you want to hear. You’re beautiful and you make me want to be a better person and I can’t imagine my world without you in it. Maybe a skeptical part of you senses the bullshit but the rest of you wants to believe in him so badly.

He kisses you deeply and writes you songs and makes you feel so special. You are fine china and he treats your body like a temple. You’re almost breathless from the whirlwind nature of the romance. You wonder if this could possibly be real, this Greek god who carries himself like a tortured poet and the love that you two share.

(The night of your seventeenth birthday is the one where the cracks start to form in the foundation. He doesn’t show up to your party. But at the time, you’re happy to make excuse for him and laugh through the disappointment.)

At some point, his acting job falls apart. You catch his mind wandering while you’re together. More dates are ditched and excuses are made. He attempts to soothe the seeds of doubt planted in your mind and it’s just enough to assuage you for the time being. Your sister squeezes your hand and tells you to run, but you can’t let it--or him--go.

(This is your first love. He isn’t perfect, of course, but the two of you just fit. How could things be crumbling? Surely you’re doing enough to make him happy, right?)

Valentine’s Day comes. He takes you out to dinner and later on makes you see stars when the two of you are alone. Perhaps he thought it would be too cruel to break things off today of all days, the little voice inside your head wryly quips. He hums into your neck and you swat away the voice like an annoying gnat.

For a while, things start to pick up again. He’s focused on you, his princess, which he claims is an ironic nickname since you’re a rough-and-tumble soccer player, but you can catch the notes of adoration in his voice and the way he gazes at you as you dart across the field with the ball. This is good, you think. Life is good.

(Perhaps there’s a reason why early versions of fairy tales are so dark and twisted in their endings.)

 

She has a tattoo on her back, three ravens flying towards the sky. You wish you could spread your wings and escape as the photo posted online of him and her threatens to make like a hot iron and brand itself into your consciousness. He looks at her the way he used to look at you, like a goddess. And she looks at him the way you always have, like he’s a dream.

(The fight that ensues after you’ve finished having dinner at his house is tumultuous. Crying on your part, screaming on his. When you drive home, there are still words in your brain you wish you could yell at him. Thoughts you wish could become sharp knives and impale him.)

He’s such an idiot. He’s a liar and a cheater and a jerk and why oh why does a piece of your heart still love him? Seeing him with her almost kills you inside even though you wish you could write him off as pond scum and be done with it. You try to suck it up and channel your aggression onto the playing field. Hey, at least the implosion of your relationship leads to your team punching their ticket to the state tournament.

It’s summer now. You still love and care deeply but you’re a bit more cautious than you used to be. You aren’t worried about having the perfect summer romance or perhaps a fling. Occasionally you catch glimpses of him and her around town but it doesn’t have the same effect as before. You silently hope that this girl has more luck in love than you did, and if not, that the carnage from the breakup won’t be too much.

You smile to yourself as some silly love song plays on the radio while you’re driving around one night. Who says you have to turn into sea foam like Ariel did in the original Little Mermaid tale? You’re ready to dictate your own happy ending, whatever it may be.

(After all, cliches don’t have to be a bad thing, despite what you may think.)

[Metal Snake]

"A soul like black coffee."

 

 

Your descriptions have inspired me. That was good.

[MMM]

ey, there you go

 

Good job

 

Edited June 5, 2017 by Austin Layers

[illiniguy34]

 

Awesome job!

[Cha]

From the blinding love to the break up, I thought it was really good. Kinda like hearing a DCFC song.

 

He kisses you deeply and writes you songs and makes you feel so special. You are fine china and he treats your body like a temple. You’re almost breathless from the whirlwind nature of the romance. You wonder if this could possibly be real, this Greek god who carries himself like a tortured poet and the love that you two share.

 

spoken like real infatuation 

[Katniss]

Oh hey, this still exists.

I originally came up with this idea for Camp SBC but didn't end up actually typing it out until now. This is only the first part of it, by the way.

 

This Hourglass is Moving Too Fast For My Liking

And someone is calling my name
From the back of the restaurant
And someone is playing a game
In the house that I grew up in
And someone will drive her around
Down the same streets that I did
On the same streets that I did"

- "Smile Like You Mean It", by  the Killers

 

“Remember when we used to think there were piranhas in there?” I asked, dangling my toes in the cool water. “Me and Gwen, at least. Harry just rolled his eyes and called me a pussy boy.”

 

Harry snorted. “Well, it’s true. C’mon dude. Would there really be piranhas at a summer camp?”

 

“It wouldn’t be a summer at Camp Hartwell without Ryan and Harry’s banter,” Jess remarked. Gwen laughed, looping her arms around Jess, Harry, and me.

 

This was a special summer for the four of us. We’d graduated from high school back in May, and in a few weeks, we’d make like the four winds and scatter off in different directions. Jess was going to art school in Savannah, Gwen was going to Kennesaw State, I planned on attending Georgia Tech, and Harry was going all the way to Texas thanks to a baseball scholarship. Who knew when--or if--we’d be able to freely spend a summer together again?

 

We returned to Camp Hartwell because it was such an integral part of our lives for so many years. It all started when I was eight years old. My dad randomly decided to send me to the same summer camp he’d attended back in the 1970s and 80s. Jess’s parents loved the idea and decided to sign her up, too. Then Harry begged his parents to let him go as well. As for Gwen, we actually met her at camp. She graduated from the same high school as us, but at the time, she’d been on vacation from a fancy Catholic private school. The three of us welcomed her into our friend group in no time.

 

From ages eight to sixteen, every summer was filled with bug bites, camp songs, scary stories, and fond memories. Last year was different, however. My mom had gotten me a gig helping out an accountant (which sucked, by the way, but at least I got paid), Jess was traveling the US with her family on a cross-country road trip, and Harry was taking part in a summer baseball league. Gwen was the only one who came back, as a counselor this time. She was a counselor again this summer and we decided to come visit her for the day.

 

Jess sighed. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could, like, stay here forever? No school. No worries. Just us and the great outdoors.”

 

“Or at least one more summer,” Gwen added. “‘Cause you know we can never go back to this, right?”

 

“Don’t remind me,” I said. “Growing up scares the shit out of me.”

It was quiet for a little while. I knew everyone was musing on summer and the inevitability of time passing in their own ways. We sat out on the dock until the brilliant pinks, reds, and oranges of the sunset signaled that it was dinner time.

Edited November 18, 2015 by katnisslovestacos

[Metal Snake]

Another good read. I need to start one of these writing corner/anthology things myself.

[Katniss]

Posted this on SBM a while back but figured I might put it here too. I'll work on the next part to that camp story in the future. In the meantime, this one doesn't have a title, but enjoy anyway.

synopsis (from SBM): Basically there's this girl, Natalie, who lives with her parents and half-brother, and then her half-sister has become this movie star and moved to NYC. Her sibs are her half-sibs because they share the same mom as Nat but not the same father. This is more about Nat's bro than Nat herself but we're seeing the action through Nat's eyes.


There was something different in the air this morning. The house seemed to be charged with a tense sort of energy. Instead of endlessly teasing me and being annoying, Zac stayed quiet. He was sprawled out on the couch, glued to his phone, though occasionally he’d glance at the front door and frown.
 

I left the house for half an hour to hang out with Tessa and get ice cream before she had to go babysit the Graham twins. When I came back, Zac was still moping about. I chucked a throw pillow at his head and smirked.
 

“Go away, Nat,” my half-brother muttered.
 

The smirk slid off of my face. “What’s with you? You’ve been acting moodier than Edward Cullen all day.”

Zac put his phone down and stared at me. “Didn’t Mom tell you? My father is coming for a visit today.”

Oh, right. While it was nice that his dad at least made an effort to see him, their time together wasn’t exactly an example of great father-son bonding. Zac still harbored some ill feelings toward him for being a deadbeat for the past few years, while his dad felt kinda awkward around Zac because he doesn’t know how to be a good parent (that’s according to Zac, anyway).

There was a knock at the door and Zac trudged off the couch to answer it. I took his spot on the couch and popped in my headphones. I didn’t want to deal with his dad and I’m pretty sure he didn’t care about me as well. I was a product of a better time in my mom’s life, with a guy who actually cared about making a family work.

“How’s your sister doing? Trying to avoid being paparazzi bait, I’m sure,” Zac’s father, Ben, loudly said, punctuating his sentence with a booming laugh.
 

“She’s fine, dad. Working on a movie right now,” Zac replied. I could practically hear the I-don’t-want-to-be-here-right-now seeping out of his tone.

Ben ran a hand through his wavy, chestnut brown hair. “Well that’s great! I, uh, gotta go up to NYC and see her sometime.”
 

Zac looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sure she’d love to see you,” he quipped. Hannah wasn’t quite as frosty to her dad as Zac, but she wasn’t exactly proclaiming her love for him, either.
 

“And where’s that other sister—Nicole?” Ben squinted, trying to remember my name. Seriously? Either his memory is shot to hell and back or he’s being a dick and doing this on purpose.

“Her name is Natalie,” Zac corrected him. “And she’s right here.”

I sat up on the couch and waved to Ben. “Hi, Mr. Cooley.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Ben drawled, his deep voice as thick as honey. Mom told me that his strong accent was a result of being from Kentucky. Well, he still lives in Kentucky; he moved back after skipping out on Mom, Hannah, and Zac and now he has some air conditioning/refrigerator/heater repair business in Louisville.

Ben took his ringing phone out of his pocket, walking over to the front door while chatting with a customer about a busted freezer.

“I am definitely not his sweetheart,” I told Zac, grimacing. To my surprise, he actually laughed.

“That’s Ben Cooley for ya. I’m so excited to go to Hooters with him for lunch.” Zac rolled his eyes.

“You never know, he could be scouting out a potential wife there,” I joked.

“Thanks, but I don’t want a stepmom who looks young enough to be Hannah’s college sorority sister.” We both dissolved into giggles. It was nice to see Zac in somewhat of a playful mood after he’d been so gloomy. 

[Katniss]

Oh hey, this thing still exists.

I had to write a blog post for my Advanced Media Writing class and even though it's not fictional, I still thought I'd share it because people in my class seemed to like it and I'm proud of what I wrote.

 

 

"You've called women you don't like, 'fat pigs,' 'dogs,' 'slobs,' and 'disgusting animals. [...] You once told a contestant on Celebrity Apprentice it would be a pretty picture to see her on her knees. Does that sound to you like the temperament of a man we should elect as president?"

Megyn Kelly's words early on into the first Republican debate of 2016 were like an armor-piercing slap to Donald Trump's face.  How did the candidate respond? By saying that he had no time for Kelly's question. This isn't the first time the FOX anchor has drilled him. Back in August 2015, after another debate, Trump went on CNN and dismissed Kelly's remarks as a result of her probably being on her period. And recently, he skipped out on the final Republican debate before the Iowa caucuses, coincidentally one Kelly was moderating.

This latest entry in the saga of Trump vs. Kelly may seem like old news by now, but it is still important. Donald Trump has proven himself to be a bigot in other ways with his disparaging remarks towards Mexicans and Muslims, and misogyny is another mark he can put on his résumé. I'm inclined to think there is a war on women and Trump is simply adding fuel to the fire. What's especially jaw-dropping to me is the fact that he has tweeted rude remarks about Megyn Kelly in the past and even retweeted his supporters' insults towards her. Kelly, for her part, has come across more poised on the matter.

"Trump is not used to not controlling things, as the chief executive of a large organization," Kelly said during an episode of her FOX News show, The Kelly File. "But the truth is he doesn't get to control the media."

Is Megyn Kelly herself a saint? I wouldn't say so. She's dismissed the matter of the Sandra Bland case by saying she should have complied with officers and often has racist former Los Angeles Police Department detective Mark Fuhrman on as a guest. She may seem like a sane voice on the network but she does often hit the same beats as more conservative pundits like Sean Hannity. Still, no woman deserves the treatment she's gotten at the hands of Donald Trump and his supporters. And though she doesn't label herself as a feminist, Megyn Kelly has proved that she cares about women.

Honestly, I do understand why Trump would've been nervous about facing Kelly in another debate. She's a no-nonsense personality who knows how to dig deep and find the right questions to put people on both sides of the political spectrum in their place. In this battle, I'll give the upper hand to Ms. Kelly for keeping a level head against a Goliath like Trump. She can run with the big boys and hold her own, and though we may disagree on certain issues, I have to admire Megyn Kelly for that.

Edited February 2, 2016 by Katniss

[Metal Snake]

That was pretty good, I liked how you were not on anyone's side, even though no sane person is on Trump's side by default. xD

[SpongeOddFan]

this is decent, really liking this tho.