Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Sarahonfire333, May 20, 2015.

  1. Hello! This is my first submission to the WAM Challenges forum, so please be gentle with me!

    One of my favorite parts of reading is being able to live and really experience the story through the emotions of the characters. As authors and writers, being able to convey emotion to the reader is irreplaceable. It's how we make the characters relatable and real even though they are nothing more than words on a piece of paper. You always hear it said that the best stories are the ones that move us and touch us deeply. This would be impossible without emotion.

    Therefore, I would like to challenge you to pick an emotion and write a scene or short story, whatever you prefer, and convey that emotion. Try to keep your focus on one emotion per post and really make your reader empathize.

    Don't just come out and say "he was angry". Instead, use more descriptive and in depth language.

    For example:
    He was angry.
    He felt the rage boil up inside him as the heat of his fury rose from his feet to his chest.

    Something like that. :) Do your best and have fun!​
  2. Emotion: Fear

    As I looked into the darkened abyss below me, my eyes widened, pupils dilating in an attempt to see anything in the dimness. I curled my hands into fists and relaxed them again over and over again, hands growing clammy and cold as sweat began to collect on my forehead. As my head reeled, I had a sudden falling sense and dropped to my knees in a panic. The cave around me was silent save for the distant murmur of the small, winding stream that I had cautiously regarded earlier in my exploration. I had come looking for an adventure and now I anticipated I'd get much more than that. My thoughts were scrambling for attention like a great flock of birds. The inner clamor, their unrelenting beaks, were making my head throb. Panicked feelings spread throughout my body, like unforgiving talons as they tried to rake my body apart.
    Looking down into the abyss, I couldn't see much since my torch had been lost earlier when the sudden flight of a bat made me drop it. That torch had been my courage, my hope, and now it was gone. All that remained was bitter darkness and confusion as I tried to make may way back to the surface, to breath clean air and feel soft grass underfoot. How long had I been down here? Hours, days, eternity? It sure felt like it with all of the stumbling and a numbing hush that seemed to have taken hold of the cave a short while ago. As to pondering the reason why the world grew suspiciously silent, the mere contemplation and weighing of possibilities made me taste sour bile in the back of my throat. Swallowing with a shaky breath, I stifled the urge to dig my hands into the cool stone below my palms and retch into the bottomless seeming pit. I was gazing into the thick darkness before me when I saw a glimmer, then two great amber eyes emerged into view. My breath caught in my throat and my stomach fluttered, pulse quickening until I heard my heartbeat within my feeble mind like a great drum beat. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again, but to my horror the eyes had not been my imagination.
    The gleaming, amber eyes grew closer and I remained petrified. I was looking my fate right in the eyes, or death to more specific. This is it. My demise.I thought to myself as the eyes grew close enough to notice slit shaped pupils. I was resigned to my fate, but still I felt myself unconsciously start to rise and stand, backing away from the lurking danger. My lungs felt useless and for a moment, I almost forgot how to breath. In and out, in an out. My eyes couldn't stay still, darting to and fro but seeing nothing but the gloomy cave walls and that horrid abyss with the beast approaching. My legs were trembling so much that I stumbled over a rock clumsily, falling onto my behind with a thump that dispelled some dust and other small debris. I positioned my hands behind myself quickly to steady myself as best as I could in a sitting position.
    Looking up I realized with dread that those terror inducing amber eyes were positioned a few feet above the edge of the abyss, meaning that....Oh god no...I don't want to go this way... My eyes adjusted to the lack of light and I soon saw the outline of a large head with swooping horns at the back. I looked down a shiny plated chest and noticed a clawed paw gripping the edge of the pit, leaving long gauges in the tightly packed stone. Then I heard a loud exhale and watched as a twirling stream of smoke emitted from the beast before me. My heart threatened to leap from my mouth and I was sure the beast must of heard my teeth clacking together. I now had a good idea that this creature was a dragon, and stupidly, I had stumbled right into its hoard.
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  3. Emotion: Horror

    Why were they all covered in red? Why? He couldn’t remember. All he could see was red. It was on his hands, on his clothes, on him. It was on them both. Why? Why did Copoi have blood on him? Why?
    It was everywhere. On him, on Copoi, on Z, on Tomodachi. Everywhere.
    All over his chest. All over Copoi’s chest.
    Why was Tomodachi growling at him? What was the cause of it?
    He had to. He had to. He had to what?
    He had to get out of there. He had to.
    He stumbled through the forest, the red covering the trees. There was something black following him, something black covered in it.
    The doors. He couldn’t touch them. If he did then they would be red too.
    Like his hands.
    Like what covered him.
    He couldn’t get it on anything else. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t.
    His shirt.
    It wasn’t completely red. He could use part of it. The part that wasn’t red.
    He could see it dripping, getting on the floor. He could not take it, he nearly fell. He saw black covered with red. That red covered black figure was all that prevented the walls from turning red. That figure was keeping the floors clean from the horrid color.
    It wouldn’t stop beating through his head. The color was all over. He couldn’t take it. The bathroom seemed so far away, the showers so far away, even though he knew they were only a few paces.
    White. So much white. Some of it had turned red now. Why? Because he was on the floor? Did he turn the floor red? He had to get rid of it, had.
    The drain. It was so red, his skin. He wanted it off. He scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed. It was pink, it was so pink from scrubbing, and the drain. It was so red. So much red. Down the drain. Changing the floor from white to red to pink. The white was covered by it. He was covered by it.
    It was gone from him right? He was pink now not red. He was a natural pink now not a red pink right? He was free right?
    He was free right? As he looked in the mirror he was free right?

    As he looked in the mirror his black hair was no longer completely black. A red stripe that seemed as though something had splattered on him, marked the right side. The right side of his right black eye was no longer black either. It was red. It didn’t come off. He wasn’t free. He was permanently adorned with red. So he screamed, a scream that anyone within a short distance could hear.

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  4. Alex with his hands folded, his fingers interlocked, rested his chin on his hands as he just stared at the half full glass of scotch as though it might talk to him. He unlocked his fingers and pushed the glass a little further out of reach and then rotated around on the bar stool. Alex looked at the massive living room of his mansion. The fire in the fire place was the only light being given off as the rain outside fell. Alex stood up and crossed over to the massive front window and just stared outside as he watched one drop hit the ground after another.

    He closed his eyes for a moment as he heard those words echoing in his mind. The officer on the phone said, "Mr. DeLorenzo your wife's car was found out at the bottom of the ravine. Apparently she was driving too fast in the rain....." After that Alex didn't remember much except pure raw pain. He lived in a house that had everything anyone could ask for. The latest technology in every room, riding stables, an Olympic sized pool, a twelve car garage, but without Tina all of it meant nothing to Alex now. The one thing he wanted in the world he could never buy.

    Alex crossed over to the couch and picked up a picture of Tina. It was taken when they were at their beach house last year. They had just finishing making love and Tina was wearing only a sapphire blue robe leaning against a railing on the back deck. The sun was glistening off of her brunette hair as Alex called to her. She turned her head and looked at Alex over her left shoulder. Alex without thinking picked up the camera and rather than try to cover up or be embarrassed Tina lowered her head slightly and gave a crooked smile. Out of all the possessions in his massive mansion that picture was his most prized. One single tear hit the glass of the picture as Alex said, "Goodbye my love."
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  5. Emotion: Indignation

    Her finger's clenched around the top of the gutair, causing the strings to vibrate slightly as she angrily pulled on them. "Why does she get to be part of the festival, I've practiced longer and harder then anyone one else in the entire band." Reina yelled her entire face going a dark red color. "Because Viol is the one who practiced the most in the group and is the one who passed her audition before you." the manager said looking over at Reina who spat on the ground.

    "Bullshit, Bullshit, Bullshit. your favoring because you happened to be her father's manager, she nothing more then a whiny asshole who can't do anything." Reina said shaking her head as she turned towards the glass door slamming her hand through the glass before pulling it opened and walked down the hallway, pushing the cameraman as well as some of the staff who got in her way. "It's always been like this, if someone has good looks they get to go first, if someone is quick and can do sexual thing, they get the most attention, the younger one get better things then the adult and so on and so forth." Reina said clutching her fingers together.
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  6. Emotion: Denial

    There he lay. His cold, unmoving body. She knew what that meant. She understood that. But, yet, she couldn't accept that. No. No. No. Not him. Not her dear little brother. Why not her?

    That's your punishment.

    Indeed. She deserved to suffer, just like she was.

    The tears were silent, her face, just centimeters apart from the body's, emotionless.

    Oh, dearest brother. Oh, little one. Why would you do that?

    She caressed the thin tendrails of his hair, so shiny as ever. Her fingers tan against his pale ones.

    Why won't you move?

    He can't.


    He's dead.
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  7. Emotion: Betrayal

    He left her weak. She couldn't see out of her eyes, for there was rage in them that did not succumb to her being. It was above her, overpowering her as if it was not of her. She wanted to scream in fright and yet collapse in fear. It did not matter what he would do now, there was no backtracking. No forgiveness.
    Her eyes were blood red from crying and her teeth chattered from the shivers that went up her spine. Every time his name ran through her mind, a shiver went up and down her back. Her hands clenched and she looked on, wherever she looked , it was far and she wanted to escape. Escape this wrath she felt as if she could not feel more than this. This was the last part of her being. This was the furthest she could go in her spectrum of feelings. It was there, that she became free. It was at this moment that she knew she could not be taken back anymore. Not taken towards the mouth of fire, not taken towards the breath of wind. Not taken into the drowning of water, and not taken to the burning of the sun. Not even taken to the ground, though she felt as though crumbling was going to happen any second. But she stood strong. Her strength was that of a warrior, though her strength was not felt by her. She was numb to it, though it was there. She walked on, each step heavier than the last. But still she walked, in her brain lines of fury and might. She wouldn't succumb. Not now, not in this moment. This moment was forever. She would never succumb to his words again. And since it was only this moment that mattered, she knew it was all she could feel.
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  8. Emotion: Gratitude

    He rubbed the sugary pistils and calyx, plotting the year's harvest. His livelihood and teacher, the plant has undeniable beauty, robust and delectable. Verdant shades of chlorophyll labored in scaled cells of stomata, while roots nestled in the earth below foraged for minerals and stored the fruits of said labor, for a later date, because this plant was a survivor of worth unknown. In his experience, he would watch everyday the intelligence of the world around him, purely woven through the Earth. A sort of divine architecture that only one could see who did not look for it.
    Because it was already there.

    A ladybug perches upon a leaf, and its meal is a mite that plagues him. He never asked, but the insect offers its service to render mutual benefit. The most minute of moments to be marveled at. Sometimes, if he was feeling extra fun, he'd track down a praying mantis and bring it back to his garden. The natural bug exterminators would make quick work of pests infesting his ladies. Fostering these relationships with the life around him found his calling was in stewarding this balance.

    Yes, he could look through the window and see that he still had a home, a cage of his own. He could look and see that his family was small and sometimes cramped. He could turn on T.V and watch the world slip away like driftwood at sea. Sometimes, he'd go down to a clearing and see the trees, wondering whether they felt their grove being cut from the ground. And he could most certainly look past those trees and into the streets where people are disconnected, tethered to the noose of their karma, the weights of their actions drag them under. During work, he could tell his friends were depressed. He could look at all the information, and surmise humans were killing the Earth.

    But whenever he looked he never found. So he found himself now.
    Amid his plants and leaves, the scent of oak carried on a caressing breeze. The sun kisses his skin, a consistent reminder shining through the blood in his veins, boring light into his eyes, to just say heads up and thank fuck you're still alive.
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  9. Emotion: Confusion

    There was a still clamor down the hall.
    Seconds later Irene emerged, her face blank. Under my breath arose these words "John, is he with you?"
    "No." Irene responded. Her face twisted into the most magnificent smile, teeth practically baring out of her mouth.
    Did she have lips? That smile was wide.
    Few seconds later a jester turned the corner. Why a jester and what was going on? Do jesters even exist anymore? I thought that was only a medieval thing!
    That was it. I stopped, "Okay!" and laughed. "What is going on!?" I rubbed my itchy nose for only a moment, "Irene, do jesters exist? Why are you smiling, where is the music, and what is going on?"

    Irene responded, "Sal!" She had to laugh too, "You need to experience this!"
    "Really!?" Than I paused. Irene was right. I had no idea what was going on and I was enjoying this moment of joyful confusion. How could a random jester and Irene create this moment, and really, what was going on!? "Irene, honestly I AM enjoying this. I have no idea what's going on."
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  10. Emotion: Anger

    Hank was angry at losing his chance for a promotion, and after all the work he did too he lost his chance thanks to his snobbish rival Bobby who in one way or another was always better then him, he felt he could just explode and beat up Bobby for not doing much work in the office yet was suddenly promoted to a job that Hank wanted, his face turned red as he tried to keep himself from having an outburst that could get him fired...

    And he did...Well kinda.

    Hank went back to his office and continued his day, even if it was crappy, he has to try and hide his anger like trying to keep a volcano from erupting...He typed furiously on the computer in front of him as he began to resume his day...If he dose see Bobby again there's no guarantee he will get a punch in the face...

    Hank grumbled viciously knowing he is now stuck in a dead end job for quite awhile...
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  11. [Emotion: Depression]

    Sound itself had left him in his time of need.
    Of course, some people would say that the ringing in his ears would be considered a sound... but in his mind, it was just a thought. The ringing... it was a thought. His mind trying to tell him to come to his senses, to snap back into reality.
    But how could he?

    How could I?

    The days had grown longer, darker, and much more still. It was quiet in his house. In the large two-story, five-bedroom, three-bathroom house he lived in, there wasn't a single sound besides his own soft, dragging footsteps along the carpet as he trudged out of his room and across the hall. He walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on, and froze in place once he saw the figure in the mirror.
    Hollowed muddy brown eyes, greasy black hair that fell down to the middle of his neck, dry skin that was flaking in places, and a messy stubble that didn't do him justice. And as he stared into the eyes that were once so vibrant, he could see it all again.

    "Good morning, Dear... I made breakfast for the kids, they're all downstairs. I made some for you, too, if you want it," said his beautiful blue-haired angel. He looked back at himself in the mirror, noticing his smooth skin, his golden brown irises, his shaven face, and the beautiful raven-black hair that covered his head, styled nicely with a bit of gel. He looked back at his husband with a smirk, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close enough to hear his heartbeat mixing with his own. "How many times do I have to tell you, Sweetheart? The only breakfast, lunch, and dinner I need is you," he cooed, laughing when he heard the quiet giggles of his lover.
    "Urien... Come downstairs and eat the food I cooked for you." Frost whined, pulling away from the larger of the two. "I'll be down there, 'kay? Love you."
    "Love you, too."

    He blinked, bringing himself back into the dark silence that shrouded his eerie house nowadays.
    Two years ago today was the last time he heard the beautiful voice of his husband, and the face that matched it perfectly. The details of what happened that day didn't matter much, even though the metallic clang of smashing cars and the screams of his loved ones filled his head every single night, plaguing him every hour of every day.
    He made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast, a simple plate of stale Pop-Tarts because he didn't have the energy to make himself much else. He sat on his couch- the same spot every day- and watched the mind-numbingly dull reruns of some show he didn't know the name of.
    And again, he was brought back to the past for just a few moments.

    "Daddy, Noah took my doll!"
    "No, I didn't, she's lying! Eva did it!"
    "I'm not even near either of you!" He heard his eldest shout from up the stairs. He laughed and ruffled the hair of his only son, parting his lips to ask what was really going on when his life-saver of a husband suddenly swooped the boy up, pulling the Barbie doll out of his hands and handing it to their youngest daughter. "Be nice to your sister, Noah."
    He smiled lovingly at his husband, who sat next to him with their son on his lap. "What're we watching?"
    "Looney Tunes."

    Back to reality.

    This life... It was nothing without his family.
    But his family wasn't here anymore.
    His life was nothing.

    "I love you, Urien."
    God, how he missed those words.
    "I love you, too, Frostie."
    And how he missed saying those words back.

    His life was nothing.
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  12. Emotion: Sorrow

    The Earth is overrun with horrors, monster, demons. All-consuming sadists and ignorant partisans. They tinker away feverishly with their little forgotten hands to make something bigger. One whole rotten mess. Ten fingers laying every brick and choking every breath out of us. One hundred roots ripped from our soil and seared on their fires. One thousand litres of putrid black smoke that spews from our dead to suffocate our living. Ten thousand years of consumption. We are trying to recover. We are trying to revive and renew. We are trying to survive. We're losing. We're dying. We are crying. We live one hundred thousand lives, and we have buried one million bodies. Our dead are stolen from the graves to fuel violent machinery and fracture our beautiful Earth. We suffer for the greed of egoism.
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  13. Emotion: Wrath

    He laid eyes on the robed figure across from himself, watching his haughty clothing ripple as the sandstorm raged around them. The memories of the ones he had held so dearly- they all abided in his mind. He nearly splintered the handle of his sword as he clutched it, and he refused to acknowledge the pain smarting about his body. It was pain that ached, stabbed at him incessantly, and begged him to stay there and lie down forever. As the dust gritted in his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed at the warlock, his body strained itself upright with the help of his weapon.

    "Curse your gods and die...!"

    Before he faded into nothingness, he remembered the loved ones that he had lost to the abomination in front of him.
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  14. A dream? Yes. Everything was all but merely a dream. He would wake up the next day, see her very figure before him, alive. Probably with her usual expression, but a l i v e.

    But, that's the thing.
    She wasn't.
    It wasn't a dream.
    It was reality.
    The pain of losing someone drowning into the abyss of nothing but utter numbness.

    Does everyone close to him /have to/ die? Does he have to witness it?

    A rough night it has been.

    the night after that.

    He clenched the antique watch between his fingers, swinging his arm only to smash the contraption against the hard surface of the wall into separate pieces. He'd grown almost mad witnessing the people dearest to him lifeless in slow succession. His palm implanted on the wall along with his forehead, his chest rising and falling into painful heaves of a breath, his hair disheveled with the lack of attention. It wasn't numbness he'd felt. It was the constant sorrow behind the mockery and smiles that made him unable to distinguish the difference between happiness and pain. His throat burned through the continuous rage and anger.

    Everyone has their own endings. Surely, he knew that.
    But, he wasn't ready.

    Putting that into a much deeper thought, he wasn't ready for anything.

    It wasn't the concern of doing something; it was his haunting remorse of being able to do nothing. Perhaps if he'd only arrived sooner, the tables could've, somehow, turned around? There was no point in delayed thinking. Nothing was the same. It was the fear of losing anyone else, as if the different shades of the rainbow subsided into its own kind of sorrowful monochrome.

    Accept this. He must accept this.

    Bottom line?

    He can't.
    He won't.
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  15. [​IMG]

    It wasn't until that very moment. That I knew what it meant to love. To hear the very sound of your heart beating. To hear you take your first breath. The fluttering of your small brown eyes, looking into mine for the first time. That instants I was completely breathless. Never in my life had I loved, truly loved. Yes, we all had our first true love. But you, you made it possible for me to know love. To with every fiber in my being, want to give you my life for you. The moment that toss tiny fingers gripped mine, even though I was tired and over whelmed, you made my world stand still. Everything dissipated and all I could see was us. The sound of your small cry, the eagerness to want to be against my skin, to feel the comfort, the need to be tightly secured against my bosom. My heart melted. Never before did I know what it meant to love, to want unconditional love. You were my guardian angel, my soul saver, my reason for my living. Never before did I think I would be happy with you at my side. I was young, but you gave me life. A life of love, of happiness, and the ability to see others in a different life. My life is yours, I hold your life in my hands, and would do what ever it takes to see that no matter how hard I am on you, that I love you, that your my whole life, and no matter how big you get, I'll hold you and tell you that. Til the day I can't and then you'll have to hold me, and tell me that. We will love each other no matter what. Love is not something that can be broken, you are my true and only first love.