Hello to all!!  I'm a new user on livejournal, and I'm seeking comments/criticisms/suggestions/advice for my writing, so please, feel free to read and comment as you like, I'm all ears! :)

Here's the prologue for the young adult novel I wrote.  Please let me know what you think...

 

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I wrote this at four in the morning, in a very tired state of mind. But I promised myself I'd post it and ask for thoughts.
Sorry if it was supposed to go under a cut. It's not explicit and is pretty short, so I figured I'd just put it up.


The first thing I noticed about you were your startling blue eyes. They wink at me as you pass me in the hallway. They sparkle when you playfully flip my hair. I jump at the chance to speak to you. My heart races when we're close. You beautiful, blue eyed boy.

I'm completely infatuated, and the first time you kiss me, I watch your blue eyes close as our lips crush together. We're with each other all the time, flying high above the clouds where the rain can't touch us. My skin burns and tingles in that pleasant way every where you touch me. I'm burning all over. I brag to my friends about you, my beautiful blue eyed boy.

When you laugh, your blue eyes no longer sparkle and gleam. Your smile is tight. I don't see you around as much. Sometimes in the hall way I catch you winking at the new girl. And the homecoming queen. And the German exchange student. She blushes and laughs, admiring your bright blue eyes. But your blue eyes are mine, and her giggle fades as my dark, hateful eyes pierce hers. You're my blue eyed boy, I still insist.

Your blue eyes look though me. You're distracted. You make excuses to get away from me, thinking I don't realize. I pretend not to notice, beg you to stay. I sink below the clouds, and it's raining all the time. And then I see you kissing the new girl. I hear rumors of the night you spent with the homecoming queen. My friends tell me they saw you at the movies, holding hands with the exchange student. I dry my tears and promise myself that I'm done with you. That I'm through with beautiful, blue eyed boys.

You've always set your blue eyes on the girls you can't have. I ignore your attempts to flirt, my heart cracking further in two each time you try to catch my eye and wink. You claim that you're done with other girls, that I'm the only one for you. Your expression bleeds honesty as you plead me to take you back. They say that if you gaze into the eyes of someone you love, you can glimpse their soul. But your blue eyes lie.

Chapter 2:  Willard Street, West Avenue, and Alfred Street

 

Nick Sparks was, most of his friends agreed, a very good-looking, generally congenial guy.  Obviously of Italian descent, he had brown hair, brown eyes, dark features, was just short of tall, and was thin but athletic; he dressed, like a typical young person of nineteen or twenty, in clothes mostly purchased from the mall.  His face was somewhat long and slightly angular, with prominent cheekbones and thin cheeks, though he did not appear gaunt.  His chin was very noticeably cleft.

 

Nick was also, most of his friends agreed, a little odd at times; but at the James School almost everyone was at least a little odd, and so this was usually overlooked.

 

 

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Hey writingfeedback, wrote another short story. You guys have been tremendously helpful. This is the third story or so that I've posted here. I'm no Thomas Pynchon yet but I think I'm gradually getting better. Any readers/critics will win one free hug, internetz, and I'll definitely read some of your stuff.

Title: Julian and the Worm
Rating: R
Warnings: Harsh language
Length: 5,000 words

Here's a copy of the story in PDF form for your convenience: http://www.99chan.org/lit/src/Julian_and_the_Worm.pdf

 

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The coffee shop in which we had been sitting was a dimly lit kind of place with all kinds of pretentious art crap cluttering the walls. I’m sure that at any given moment, one could easily find a patron there who enjoys the kind of garbage I’m asking you to read. I can say with some certainty, however, that finding a Nicholas Sparks lover there would be very unusual. It was not the sort of place someone who reads Nicholas Sparks would sit and read Nicholas Sparks. That would be embarrassing in such a hip and intellectual place as the coffee shop.

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Title: God Only Knows (not really; it's just a placeholder until I can think of a real title)
Rating: R because I'm horrible at rating things
Warnings: So far? Just cursing.
Summary: "First time I've ever heard you quote your father."
Author's Note: I have some grand plans for this story involving religion and violence and angst. My three favorite topics. For now, that is.

( Part 1 of Impatience and Waiting )

           

Title: Solace In Shadow
Rating: T
Wordcount: ~950
Warnings: Angst, Mental Illness
Summary: I remember him well.
Author's Note: Another short story with Cameron. She's really starting to grow on me.

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At that moment, Lee showed up.  I always thought that Lee looked more like a Tom than a Lee.  He was tall, his head was shaved, he was large—overweight I think, actually, although I would never say that because he’s so sensitive about things like that (although his nonchalance makes it seem like he isn’t)—and yet somehow looked like he was nine years old.  Maybe it was the way he dressed that made him look that way.  Anyway, he should have come off as intimidating, given his god-given bodily figure.  Instead, he came off as very nice and very sociable but somewhat insecure.  You could tell he was kind of insecure because of his humor, which was self-deprecating without being dark.  Sometimes he would make jokes about being ugly.

Personally, although I swear I don’t subscribe to any stupid universal-love-like beliefs, I find it easy to find things beautiful that are not, really, classically beautiful.  Even those things that someone like me might, every once in a while, in a conversation, forgetting for a moment that I can find beauty in everything, say is “the kind of ugly that just can’t be beautiful,” or “really profoundly mundane, so that it just can’t be beautiful,” or “like a scrap of white plastic, like, plastic all the way from the 70’s, sitting on a granite counter, and maybe from being beaten up it has a couple of grooves in it filled with dirt.  But the contrived contrast between the plastic and the granite makes it impossible for the situation to be beautiful.”  The reason I let you in on that fact about me is that I want to tell you that I didn’t find Lee ugly.  Lots of people would reassure him that he was not ugly, but I really meant it.  They didn’t.

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Title: Lost Time Can Never Be Recovered
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~1100
Warnings: Angst, Profanity, Violence, Mental Illness
Summary: Is this story true? If I can trust what I was told, then yeah, apparently it is. But I've learned that I can't trust her. I'd say this is probably only maybe true. I don't know. I don't remember.
Author's Note: Be as brutally honest as possible. I would eventually like to write Cameron in a novel that I could possibly eventually sell, and I'd like to know if it's a waste of time now. Thanks ahead of time to those who read.

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