Wow, I didn't know 4Chan had a section like this. ^_^ Awesome. Anyway, I'm writing a novel right now. It's a supernatural mystery - with romance, of course - and I'm trying to build a platform for it before presenting it to publishers and agents this spring. I was wondering if you guys wouldn't mind going to the Facebook page promoting it and checking it out. If you like what you see, I'd love it if you'd like the page for it. (In return, if you need to get the word out about your own work, I'd be more than happy to assist you in like.)

Here's a quick excerpt before you click:

I heard the tires squealing on the blacktop, my adrenaline spiking to punctuate the noise. No, no, no... I pushed myself harder, knowing where I needed to go. Knowing who to run to. I turned and ran up the hillside, toward my house, through the woods. Please, please, please...
I slipped through the sparse trees that formed a windbreak between the cemetery and my house, dashing my foot against a giant block of quartz someone placed for decoration. The horn of his car permeated the tranquil night, letting me know how furious I made him. I might die, I thought. Tonight, he might actually kill me.
The thought fueled my fear and I ignored my rapidly swelling foot as I half-ran, half-limped across the gravel driveway and up the porch steps. Please...and there he stood in the open door, the warm light casting a soothing backdrop on his broad, muscular form. I toppled into his arms, gasping for breath and utterly exhausted from my escape.
His car peeled up the gravel driveway in the distance, fortunately unable to take my shortcut in his vehicle, and my protector dragged me in the door with him. He closed and locked the door behind us, then turned to face me with a worried furrow in his brow.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his deep brown eyes smoldering with rage against my attacker. My whole body hurt, but I hated to worry him.
I opened my mouth to speak when I heard his heavy footsteps on the porch, uneven and heavy with drink. “William...” my voice warbled with terror, my skin drawn tight over my face as I expressed my horror there.
William’s jaw clenched with barely contained anger—an emotion to which I felt a strong aversion, even when William showed signs of it. My attacker’s face appeared outside the window, between the drawn panels of the tattered eighteenth century drapes. His pale butterscotch eyes gleamed in the candlelight that poured from our home, his graying sandy hair matted against his perspiring forehead. It made me remember my earlier ordeal, the rage that powered every blow of his fist as I tried and failed to withstand the pain.
Suddenly, he disappeared and a loud crash came against the door as he fought against it in his drunken stupor. I felt an icy sensation sweep through my stomach. William whipped his head around to glare at the entryway, but then he turned back to me and smiled, erasing my fear for a moment. When he smiled, I felt safe. The doorknob stopped rattling and all signs of that man’s presence disappeared.
“He’s gone, my love. Can’t you rest now?” he asked me gently, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me. His long black hair framed his face in such a way that it accented his angular features and made his sultry chocolate orbs irresistible.
I reached up and pressed my palm against his cheek. He leaned against the warmth and closed his eyes. “You know he isn’t really gone, William...” He sighed, eyes still shut.
“...and I will have to let you go?” His lashes fluttered for a moment before lifting away. I wanted to stay with him so badly, but...
“For now, William. Only for now.” He nodded, kissing my forehead. He frowned as he unwound his long arms from my body, allowing me to fall backward. Instead of slamming against the floor, I fell into a deep chasm I failed to notice when I initially entered the room.

~

Thanks for reading this!


http://www.facebook.com/pages/Death-Vows/132652990159842

A large company moved along a lonely road. It was the height of the winter months. The wind was fiercely cold and blinding. The company consisted of 12 armed soldiers. Guardians of the White Cross. Leading them was a white-haired man. His red eyes shone from amongst his scarves and wraps. They had a commanding look to them.
   The wind was cold against the white-haired Guardian. The man shuddered against the cold, pulling his long cloak against him. A large white cross emblazoned onto the back of it. His sword jingled lightly at his side as his horse slowly plodded along.  “Kailar, We should make camp. The wind cuts at our skin like daggers.” A female voice spoke amongst the party. “Yes, You are right, Caia.” He dismounted his horse. “Kartha, Clear the snow and trees.” He said to the largest man in the compant. The large man grunted in reply and walked past Kailar. He stood, his arms extended. “Melik!” He shouted. There was a loud whoosh, and the snow was cleared from their vision. What showed was a large clearing. “Good as always, Kartha.” Kailar patted the man on his back. “Zareh, Cairn, Uldyr. Setup camp. Caia, Lead a scouting part and search the woods. We don’t want any of Arikath’s men after us” The woman nodded and took two other men with her into the forest.
   Kailar sat in his tent, sharpening his blade when a black haired elf entered. “Ah, Iskin. Please, Sit down.” Kailar said, offering his chair to her. She took the chair as he sat on his bedding. "What can I do for you?" The man said, smiling. Iskin whispered to him. "We've been followed. Ever since we left the Red Dragon Inn." Kailar looked at her and reached for his sword. "Iskin. Get to your tent, Grab your weapons and prepare for a fight." He muttered. Iskin nodded, and walked to her tent. Almost simultaneously, A battlecry split the air. Kailar emerged from his tent to find a clan of bandits charging the camp. Kartha emerged from his tent with a large axe. He swung it at a nearby Bandit, shattering the poor mans ribcage. Kailar slashed at a charging Bandits chest, and slit his throat while he fell. Iskin stabbed another multiple times in the chest. Kailar turned to deflect a blade aimed for his spine, but an arrow pierced the Bandits neck before he could move. Caia charged from the forest, two other archers picking off the Bandits. The battle went on for hours. Kailar cut and slashed at Bandits left and right.
   When the battle finally ended. The ground was littered with broken bodies and blood. "Report, Zareh." Kailar said to the wounded Initiate. "Sir, One casualty on our side. Cairn. Took an arrow to his heart. Killed him instantly sir." He lowered his head. Kailar sighed "Have Kartha dig a grave for him. We bury him here. Burn their dead." The Initiate nodded and went to carry out Kailars orders. Iskin walked up to Kailar. She put a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at the Elf. Her green eyes looked into his red eyes. "What troubles you, Kailar. Battle usually puts you in a joyful mood." She asked, puzzled. Kailar sighed "I didn't think they would follow us. I'm making mistakes." He said, looking away. Iskin turned his face towards her. "Everyone makes mistakes, Kailar. Don't blame yourself." She replied. Kailar turned his whole body to her. "I can't make mistakes. I can't lose anymore men. We lost a good man today. Cairn was young and strong, and he died because of my mistake!" He yelled. Iskin was unphased. "Fine, Wallow in your own self pity. The longer you put the blame on yourself, The more men we will lose." She snapped and stalked away. Kailar walked back to his tent, layed in his cot, and let the sweet embrace of sleep take him.


Thoughts?

Hey /book/,

I'm not exactly sure how to say this, but... I can't help but feel that I was able to read better and faster than when I was younger. After some point in middle school, I just stopped reading altogether. Now that I've come back to it because of school, I've seen that I read quite slowly. It just took me an hour to finish a chapter of The Hobbit (26 pgs.). Do I have ADD? Or has my time on the internet been degrading my reading ability? I never finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows because I gave up at the end, probably due to the fact that I already knew what was going to happen. Please help, I really want to get back into reading again and I always procrastinate on reading assignments because I'm afraid I'll take too long to finish them.

yo girl

would u like

yo boy

i am half male half female and you cant disagree on things we cant even see (genetics)

Looking for a good book to read, not dead set on a genre but I'm leaning towards something that's new, intelligent and mystery/thriller. The only idea that I have is Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay because I like the show, but I have no idea if it's good or not. Putting complete faith in all of you.

I wrote this when I broke up with my gf and I found it on my phone I thought the transition was interesting.
>Excuse poor grammar, haha, I did write this on a phone. Feel free to critique or comment.

May 23 2012(wed)
    There is one bright and vivid light left in my life. Even though I feel it is not enough to completely chase away the darkness that threatens to envelope my person. I haven’t
taken the time to appreciate the warmth and comfort it has to offer. Instead I’ve only kicked dirt on the embers that keep this light ablaze when I should have been feeding the flame with my own love and happiness. I don’t feel apologizing is right in this situation, the past is not something any known entity can change, the future, however, is mine to grasp by the throat and make my own. I can’t promise to always keep the flame lit or burning nearly as brightly as it does now, nor can I make the resolve to be completely fearless of being burnt for getting too close. Even if I know that the scar left behind will heal over time, but it’s never the scar that makes people resent such affliction. It’s the root of the scar that brings even the most stoic men to their knees’. The power and subtlety of such an imminent force is almost unmatched in its ability to maim.
    Even I can articulate that this force offers such an excruciating burn, it can melt a steel heart. Which is why feeding these sensitive embers can also bring an enormous amount of uncertainty and risk. However. I have a strong premonition that if I don’t man up, seize the opportunity at bay, and feed the fire everything I have then it will quickly starve and fade away, leaving with me no light, nothing but the darkness in my heart to flush out the loneliness and sadness that is always on the breach. But there is always danger present, if I feed the fire too much too quickly, the result will be violently devastating. The flames will scorch my already meager heart, and the embers will suffocate due to my own ignorance and greed. leaving the light to burn out. The probability of this malicious conclusion, no matter my resolution, makes perception of true happiness, warmth, and love an exceptionally difficult concept to grasp.

Jun. 3 2012(Sun)
    The embers of the fire that brought the magnificent light have been suffocated by no other then its own curator. The old darkness seeps in and begins to set in along with the new scar that still burns crimson with torment and oozes the putrid green puss of depression; along with this new found scar, this sadness, and this atrocious pain. A New emotion has emerged from the depth of my being. One satiated with uncertainty, confusion, and apathy for all things. As my body realizes that it’s alone again the darkness begins to creep into my soul, I feel like I have no one to trust, no one that cares. The light yearns to illuminate my person and chase away this pessimism that invokes me. But I murdered its source of immaculate power through suffocation and greed. I bring this pain and unhappiness upon myself. I once read that trust always brings pain, and by trusting this divine luminance I’ve become my own harbinger. I can’t expect a simple light to bring me bliss. I should only acknowledge its radiant flame, embrace its warmth, and caress its stagnant beauty. With the help of the flame ,this light, I believe I can find true happiness. But not with the light alone, I need to find my own path and carve my future with my own hand.

Be as critical as possible.

NOURISHMENT

    The sun scorched the ground, smoldering the man’s body as he sat and watched the insatiable crowd. Their eyes feverishly darted at him; the hunger in their eyes was unquestionable as they watched his every movement. Amidst this ferocious audience stood a woman, whose head never rose forward, and never moved away from the ground. She was naturally beautiful, but her posture and attire spoke otherwise: her hair hidden from view, arms crossed defensively, and her stature diminished by the ferocious crowd spoke only of shame. He looked upon her with sorrow as he moved ever so slowly, a feeling of guilt weighing upon his already collapsing shoulders. The crowd continued to yell, to intimidate and dehumanize the man as he inched forward. Behind him, a man—an instrument—held his bound hands, pushing and shoving to get him to move faster. He held no sympathy, nor compassion for the man that he was guiding; it was a routine job, and nothing more.
To the unfortunate man’s discontent, they had arrived at the steps. The crowd grew wilder, hungrier, itching for more as he hesitantly ascended the short and ominous steps. The aft man guiding him gave one last shove, causing him to collapse onto the hard wooden floorboard, where fate had forced him to be. The crowd cheered in amusement as they ruthlessly watched him suffer. His pain, his anguish were merely sustenance for their unconventional hunger—their manic lust. Another man, similar to the other, but wearing a leather mask—securing his anonymity—picked him up impatiently, getting him to his feet and holding him there for a few moments as the crowd continued to ridicule the poor soul in amusement. Once more the man scanned the horde, trying to pick out the one he noticed earlier, trying to find the one person who eased his torment. Suddenly he found her, and as before, her eyes remained fixated on the ground, but her head was visible, more so than before. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear escaped her eyelid, running down her cheek as the crowd shouted and cursed without quarter; they had been starved for some time.
The masked man brought him towards the center of the platform to which he was confined. He looked over to his right, where an orator hollered and rallied the crowd. He could not make out any specific words or phrases, but knew without question that his condemnation was a central topic. The crowd continued to lavish in their malicious nourishment as he was carefully positioned on the center point. A cold sweat formed on the man’s brow as his heart began beating vehemently. The crowd became ferocious as their hunger increased with every second; their screams and bitterness clouded the man’s thoughts as the masked man took hold of the rope, and placed it around his victim’s neck. Below his feet, the man noticed the thinner layer of wood that attested to his precarious predicament. The orator continued to incite the crowd’s viciousness. His ears rang as the crowd grew louder and louder, as his heart beat faster and faster, as a cold sweat soaked every inch of his body. The masked man approached the lever and held it firmly, and the malnourished audience prepared for the grand finale.
Suddenly, silence befell upon the man; the crowd's ferocity was muted as time slowed to a near pause. Looking out onto his audience, his eyes fell upon her once more. She looked up, her face covered in tears as she gazed into his eyes. Terror and sorrow filled her eyes as she mouthed three simple words to him. Just as suddenly as time had slowed, a rush emerged and the hollers of the crowd shattered the peaceful (albeit momentary) atmosphere. The man attempted to call out to the woman, but as the masked man's stroke fell, the opening hatch beneath him rendered such an option moot. His eyes darted at her as she looked away in sheer horror. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself fall through the platform. The sound of his neck snapping on the sturdy noose silenced the crowd as they watched his body wriggle and convulse. Finally his body, rendered limp, dangled from the rope, which swayed ever so gracefully.
An eerie silence replaced the crowd’s ferocity as they gazed at the otherwise motionless figure—their mouths inundated with their own saliva. The insatiable horde approached the man steadily, customarily gathering around him in silence as they forcefully maneuvered the nigh lifeless woman towards it. As they moved closer, the orator hummed the ceremonial harmony, and his henchmen laid the docile woman flat on the ground—her body locked in position by rope. The orator looked to the sky, chanting with great vehemence as the crowd encroached on the two; the hunger in the eyes of each and every one of them, was unquestionable.