EXERCISE Expressing Emotional Pain

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Diana, Mar 25, 2014.

  1. Every story must have PAIN and nothing is more powerful than emotional pain. Emotional pain can come from anything, be it losing a loved one, disappointment in oneself, hurt feelings, or even fear. In your writing, you have to be able to SHOW this pain through actions and dialogue.

    For this exercise, you are going to write a short scene expressing Emotional Pain.


    • Tears are the easiest and most obvious way to express emotional pain.

    • Facial expressions are another common way to show emotional pain. What sort of expressions are they making?

    • Just like physical pains, emotional pains can also give physical cues. Is there a certain action the character does when they are in emotional pain? Hunched shoulders, wringing wrists, fidgeting?

    • Dialogue can be in your face, or it can be subtle. Are they expressing their emotional pain verbally in a way that makes it known to the world, or do they try to mask it in conversation?

    • Sometimes actions speak louder than words. Crying, screaming in to the night, stabbing someone... these could all be expressions of emotional pain.

    Now write a scene! Any character, any setting. Make sure to express emotional pain!
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  2. ((So yeah... I got a little carried away with this challenge. In fact, as to show you my writing skills, I hope this gives everyone a benefit of their doubts. If it's crappy, I'm sorry. If not, I'm honored!))

    Albania "Alva" Petrakov felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach, The dhampir just got finished attending her father's funeral. She fled out of the so-called "Chapel" for "some fresh air". She took a shaky hand to brush through her hair, and she squeezed her hands to keep herself together. Alva's heart rapped through her chest. With all due respect, she couldn't bear watching her father. She couldn't believe that everyone attending the funeral was crying over his death.



    The ominous music reverberated through the gossamer doors. With every step she took, she had to grip onto a wall to keep her composure. Nevertheless, Alva could feel her stomach gurgling with heterogeneous bile. The increasing pain in her chest made it near-impossible to walk, and the woman tumbled to the floor. Through the "Elysium" of music and grotesque croaks, Alva could see a obscured image of her father.

    What was he good for?

    On the garnet-chiseled earth, she visioned the most notorious event involving an angry dad and a fed-up son. From what she could recall, their bickering was brought from a lost battle in Romania. Now, the Russian dhampir had no say, nor could they intervene. Unfortunately, Vladimir Vern Petrakov paid the ultimate price of being beheaded for his disobedience. She remembered the last thing her brother blurted prior to his head coming off.

    "Отец, я старался изо всех сил! {Otets, ya staralsya izo vsekh sil!/Father, I tried my best!}" was all he could say before the evil brute smacked him down on the floor. The Little Alva yelped to the grotesque CRACK on the floor. Vladimir emerged off the floor with a bludgeoned mouth. The pain was so unbearable, his father did not see it as the norm to see Vladimir bawl with contempt.

    In fact, this was the LAST STRAW.

    "ВЫ НЕ МОЙ СЫН, ублюдок! Быть трусом! {VY NE MOY SYN , ublyudok! Byt' trusom!/YOU ARE NOT MY SON, BASTARD! BE A COWARD!" The mighty Privy stumbled towards his son, gave him a full Nelson, and elevated him in the air. After some effort, Privy slammed him down to the floor. The force was enough to shatter his whole rib cage. Privy got up, and unsheathed his sword. Even after that, his father ripped his son's back open as if he would a dead pig. With much difficulty, Privy stomped down on his dead son.

    Because the back was wide open, everywhere he went smelled and stained of blood. Just as Alva was about to retire to her room, Privy went for the unthinkable. The 6' 8" troglodyte had a burning hate for his son. As to emphasize Vlad's so-called "dishonor", Privy attempted to rip Vlad's head off with bare hands. When that failed, the man slashed Vlad's head off of his shoulders. Alva, Svetlana and Olga stood there with their hearts in the mouth.

    But what were Sira and Libra doing?

    Once she remembered the scene, it all clicked to her: [RAINBOW]HYPNOTIZED![/RAINBOW]

    Siberia and Libra didn't stand over Vladimir with shocked, tear-filled eyes. They were helping the animal get rid of Vladimir. Sira and Libra didn't know better, Mother Lana said. Unfortunately, Albania knew there was MORE to that. In fact, Privy's campaigns bought home more than stoic children.

    It ruined her life.

    It disrupted order in the court.

    It corrupted innocent minds.

    It broke the friendly ties to the Petrakovs, especially their positive reputation.

    This was alarming, and not even a vast mental capacity could preserve a man known for his cannibalistic behavior.

    The family was so TWISTED, they couldn't even comprehend what was what anymore.

    Just as the organ music reached its crescendo, Alva could hear an airy, harrying voice from above. "Hellllllll-oooo~!" She could see a little girl wanting to play with her in her mind. Little time allotted for the surprise kick in the stomach.

    When Alva woke up, she could feel the bile racing to her esophagus, and she gave out a violent retch. The irritating bile spewed out of her system. Once she finished vomiting, she saw a gaudy woman dawn over her. The vile blonde grasped the tender parts of Alva's cheeks. "Oh, why so lonely?" She slurred in her best English.

    Alva slapped her sister's arms from her face. "Go away, Sira." She glared at her sister, taking off her dirty glasses. Wide, periwinkle eyes met Sira's amethyst orbs. She felt her teeth clench, and the tears spilled out her eyes. At that point, the environment mattered little to her unraveling smites.

    Sira acted surprised, "Aw, Alva's getting mad... Gotta tell Lord Privy--," This was her technique; she would try using her father as a threat. In their youth, this always paid off. In the Rhodes Chapel, there were protesters shouting for their freedom by the door. Even with all of the ruckus, this trick had unworkable kinks. Therefore, using Privy's name to equal him to the Lord would be futile.

    Alva stomped towards the harrying Russian and screamed, "Вы немного дерьма! ПОЧЕМУ!? {Vy nemnogo der'ma! POCHEMU!?/You little shit! WHY!?}" Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. "You know Father was a rotten-ass bastard, Sira. YOU KNOW--,"

    Before she could even reply, Sira gave Alva a doubling kick to the crotch. "I'll have you know he's the greatest Daddy I've ever had!" She could hear Alva sobbing. In fact, the tears did little to change her mind. Sira would just want to harry her sister even more!

    ((What happens from there~!?))
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  3. The sound of people begging for their lives barely registered in Gaharan's mind. The people of his village were being summarily executed by the evil men that had rode in no more than an hour ago, and it barely registered in his mind. He was kneeling in the muddy street, his dead wife huddled in his arms, a single sword wound through her chest. His elven features were twisted by the grief that held sway over him, tears streaming down his face.

    Why? Why had this happened? What had they done to deserve this? He wanted to scream those questions at the armored men with their skull shaped helmets and their blood sheathed swords. Yet all he could do was stare into the cold, dead eyes of the one he loved, her angular features locked into a look of agonized terror. Another despair filled sob escaped him as he hugged her tightly, trying to will her back to life. This had to be a nightmare and he would wake up at any moment with her laying beside him in bed. He tried so hard to believe that, though he knew this was indeed reality.

    As his mind began to accept the truth of the situation a burning hatred took hold of him. The grief that held sway turned swiftly into undeniable rage. He tilted his head back in that moment, wrath twisting his angular features. In that moment he let out a scream filled with all the grief and anger that was welling up in his tall form. Then he flinched as sudden pain shot through him, his scream drowned out by the blood that suddenly welled up to trickle from the corners of his mouth. All emotion left him in that moment as his life ended.


    Planting a boot against the dead ilarian elf's back, the tall, armored figure tugged his blade free from the corpse. A look of disdain took hold of the knight's angular features as the dead man slumped over his equally dead wife. Slowly he turned away from the sight, focusing brilliant blue eyes upon the small handful of villagers that remained. His expression grew unreadable as he stared at them for a long moment before shifting his gaze to those he commanded, "Kill the rest and burn everything. Let this village stand as a lesson to those who would dare defy the will of Ozmosis."

    Seth could hear mothers beg for the lives of their children as he turned away. The cries of those children, who were so filled with terror at what had occurred this day. It stirred no emotion in the tall elf as he strode away from the ensuing slaughter. Young, old, it didn't matter. All must die this day. It was the will of his god. Yet, some part of him cringed at this. A part of him that was growing tired of committing such vicious acts. A part of him filled with doubts about his god. Unfortunately for the innocents of this village, that part of him did nothing to stop what had happened.
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  4. It hurts. Not in a stabbing way. More of a dull one, were if I thought deeply enough, I wouldn't notice. But then the hurt tricks me. Because the only things to think about are things that hurt me. So whenever I start thinking, the hurt flares, burning me until I fold in on myself, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, unyielding.
    The only release from his words is through drawing. I grab my notebook, sit on the my bed, and while I silently sob, I draw. I draw swirls, loops, curves, and angles, barely conceiving what I've drawn until I'm done. And as I look down at the paper, tears dry, I'm not surprised by what I see. It's him. His face in all his beauty; as if my mind had secretly remembered all of his perfection for this one moment. New tears come down my face. I fall asleep to their sweet embrace.

    .........Several Hours Later.........

    Clicking. That's the first thing I hear when I wake up. It's coming from the room down the hall. It's a run-away sound. A trying-to-forget type of sound. As if the more he clicks the mouse, the further he gets from reality. Pain swells in me as I remember the events leading to me sleeping. The tears, the drawing, the words. His words.

    "No." He had shaken his head, expression blankly conflicted,"No, I do not love you."
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  5. "Open your eyes....please." He was rocking her back and forth now. Disturbed. "Enier..." Seltze's chin touched her head. "Come now, let this be over, you've made me worry, enough to tell you what I am certain will make you run. I love you as well. From the moment we danced in the Great Halls. I, a half demon, capable to love another. You've been teaching me every step of the way. To love...even the humans I damned earlier when I saw them as no more than useless. Open your eyes, let me see them, let me hear your words my heart longs to hear." He massaged her back, the woman's arms spread out, stilled, her head dropped more. She would not wake.

    "ENIER!" Seltze screamed uncharacteristically. His flames turned a dark green color. He climbed to his feet holding her protectively, no one would take her away from him. He failed her. "Enier...." The Guardian was truly alone in the world. His purpose.....gone. He paced the sand clutching the Goddess daring someone to disrupt them. He called her name over and over, stopping, then pacing again, his handsome features hardened. "Enier. Enier." She responded to nothing. His heart beat furiously, a hiss leaving his mouth.

    "How could you be brought to me only to be taken away? Mine. Mine. The only thing I considered worthy...please I beg you...do not leave me to this world alone. I have nothing without you." Seltze dropped back to his knees bringing her body closer, he leaned down more. "I've failed you. My oath broken. Broken...." His arms wrapped around her until.....the Goddess' physical being dispersed into white energy bursting up to the sky lighting it up, Seltze was forced to watched the display, shocked. He didn't understand. And as quickly as it came to be, it was gone. Everything he valued, nothing to hold onto.

    His Enier.....gone. He screamed murderously digging his hands into his own body gouging away flesh. Seltze wanted to be dead too. Right with her. Lose this mortal body to chase her soul, where ever it went, and reunite them. Blood stained his tips the more he dug inside inflicting wounds. He cried out again. Unbeknownst to him, the wounds healed, the only real thing scarred being the ripped, damp clothing. No. He had to find her. He would find her. In death. Damn the humans. Let them handle their own problems.​
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