Hi! I'm a young writer who's trying to finish a novel. But it's more diffucult than it seems because I've got a million other stories swarming in my head, but here's a little something I wrote a while back. Please, please,
please give me advice. I need it desperately.
The Truth and Lies of the Heart
No one can escape Fate. His grasp on the universe is too strong. Even Destiny herself is afraid of him; the whole world trembles at his feet. No one, not even the stars can stop him once he’s made up his mind. Gemini was cursed to face herself, Ares forced to fight for Fate’s entertainment. Aquaritus, born to breathe air, takes in water now that Fate has gotten his way again. No one can change him, no one can soften the heart of steel that resides in his chest.
Or so we thought.
***
Down to the willow she went. Searching, for what she was not sure, but it seemed to be the truth. The stream held answers, the open sky, freedom. But the willow finds the truth to the questions. Down she went, further and further away from reality.
***
The day she was born, whispers came from the trees, whispers that held truth and fiction as ancient as their origin. She was different, like the last. And she would also slip away, like the last. She was held close to her mother’s breast once the words found their way to the ear of the same woman who caressed her. She was not like the last. And even if she was, she would not become lost. She would become too strong for the spell of Fate, unlike the last.
She was held too close, kept too near, loved viciously. Her mother was right, she was not lost like the last. But the love that was given to her meant that her mother would become the one to slip away. Love too bold is deadly. There was mourning, but most of all there was fear. Fear that Fate had taken another. And fear of the girl who was like the last. For her, no one was left. Her whole world had changed, and she let it control her. But her mother’s will for her to live created a strength in her too strong for death. She was broken, she was new, she was alone.
Now mind, she was still herself. She was the same, confused, loving girl. But she had evolved into a young woman with a different view of the world. Love was a drug, and addiction, a death sentence. The only one you can trust is the trees and the sky, for they always speak words of truth and healing. So, up to the willow she went for the truth and tranquility. The walk was not long, nor her life. Or so she thought. So, she took her time, knowing it very well may be her last. Or so she thought. The visions took over, as they normally do. They were different, though. Her mother, lost all of those years ago, was standing in front of her. Her footsteps faltered, coming to a stop. And without words, something more powerful than Life and Death and Fate and Destiny passed between them.
She fell to her knees, tears falling down her face. All she sees is her mother fading away, the smile changing into words. I love you. She returns the gesture, saying the same thing. The shadow of the woman that onced lived faded away into nothing, leaving her alone. A sense of loneliness and yet love washed over her, showing her the truth. The truth to the heart. The lies that she believed before don’t matter anymore, they faded away to nothing. She knows that love exists, and that it is a drug. Everyone and everything knows the consequences that could happen, but they take it anyway, and completely willingly.
Then, just then, Fate died. The steel shell that he had placed around his heart broke into a million pieces. He remembered how to love, how to care, how to be selfless. That, and only that, could kill Fate, and bring forth a new one. One that cares, one that loves, one that is selfless.
She lived a full life, and found love. Her daughter brought her so much joy that she forgot the times of suffering and loneliness, and flowered into a beautiful mother. Once she died, she went willingly and happily, knowing that whatever comes next, her mother would be there waiting for her, with her sister. She became known as the Girl who Lived. Because, in death, our stories become fabricated and embroidered. If you ask her granddaughter, you will know that the stories aren’t true. But she was an extraordinary woman who changed the lives of everyone who exists after her.
hahah, Hi. I'm a person. And I don't know what I'm doing. Yay!!!! Cluelessnesss! I sometimes write... I rarely draw, but I still do it. I'm pretty boring, and I am fluent in sarcasm. If I say something rude, I don't acutally mean it. It's just how I am...