Random Piece of Writing

Alright, that last post was exhausting to write. It was Serious. I hate being serious, but it is good exercise every once in a while. Now that I'm done with Serious for the week, I can now move on to other, not so serious subjects. Like writing!

Okay, so writing's still sorta serious, but not the way I do it. What's the point of writing if not to have a little fun, putting imagination into words? True, at times writing can be emotionally or mentally painful. Sometimes I sit and bleed onto the page… but in doing so I find release from whatever emotions had hold over me. Nothing is so comforting to me as a prayer, a pen, and few hundred sheets of empty paper longing to be  filled with beautiful flowing letters and drawings…

So here's a little writing for your reading pleasure (or displeasure, if you happen to dislike it). It's just a scrap. I have many scraps filed away. Still, I'd welcome critiques from anyone that gets the urge.


*Matthew did not always make a habit glancing over his shoulder, but there was something about this place that felt utterly disquieting. Part of him rationalized that it was merely his anxiety acting up again, that there really wasn't someone—or some thing—watching him, waiting for him to let down his guard…


No, stop that thinking! He shook himself, but it didn't do anything towards stilling his inner paranoiac. 
There was something out here. He knew there was. Why hadn't he believed the villagers? Why did he always have to see things for himself? Sometimes it seemed the battle between curiosity and paranoia left no room inside his mind for rational thought.


Angels defend me, he pleaded, fighting back a fresh wave of fear. He felt the flight urge forcing its way in, but his curiosity stood unyielding, would not let him move.


Something clattered in the darkness, echoing in the open space, and Matthew spun, knees bent and ready to run at the first sign of danger.


"Who's there?"


The darkness refused to answer.


After a moments silence, Mathew began to relax. There was nothing out there. It was just his his imagination acting up again… He nearly choked on the relief, but then he heard it. A second clatter.


In an instant he had the shockbow unhooked from his belt and ready for action.

"Who's there?"

The darkness… giggled?

Matthew cursed himself, cursed the darkness. Obviously, it was simply children playing some prank on him. It was not the first time in his search…

With a weary shake of the head, he returned the weapon to his belt. "You children should know better!"

He turned to the light of the entrance way, fully intent on not wasting another breath here. He had barely gone two paces when it dawned on him that the light was no longer there. Impossible, he thought, it's high noon outside.


The darkness giggled again; Matthew cursed. He spun, hand going to unhook his shockbow, but it was already too late.  The shockbow was gone. He was disarmed. There was nothing he could do to defend himself now. With that realization, all the fear melted away, and he laughed. If he was to die anyway, what use was fear?

He laughed, and the darkness said, "Um,  you're supposed to be afraid."*




And that's all I have of this s-crappy bit. Again, I'm open to critiques from anyone that feels the urge.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

Edit: Unlarged font size on writing scrap because it was a little hard to read once posted. Marked beginning and end with asterisks.