LET’S GET WRITING…

[Neptune]

So my wife and I were just bitching about Eragon.  I know the kid was 15 when he wrote it, but if that little shit can sell tons of copies...well, gorramit, why not?  I've had an idea banging around in my head for a while.  I kinda want to start a book this way.  This is the first time I've typed it out.  Let's see how it looks on paper. 

~~~~

The warrior stood motionless as the world crumbled around him.  He knew this was it.  One could not stand in it's awesome power and not be tempted to use it.  He had fought too long and too hard to keep it out of the possession of others.  He knew he was right.  He knew it for a fact, but then again, didn't everyone?  His hand gripped the Crown so hard that it's spines hurt his palm.  He knew he was like every other damned fool who had held this awesome artifact, all self-righteous and well intentioned.  He wanted to believe that he would be the one who would not succumb to temptation and destroy all he knew, but now at the end of all things, was he so proud?

The sound of metal on metal brought his eyes up to the entrance of the cave.  In the light of the false dawn, the fight was still going on outside.  Men were killing and dying, all for him.  The Crown pulsed gently in his hand.  With this power, he could end it all and ensure that they would not suffer.

As if his the Crown of Amber heard his desire, he felt the barest wisp of it's power flow out of the cave.  There was a brief chorus of screams before his wish was fulfilled.  Shocked to the core, he reigned in his thoughts.  He knew better than that.  Wishes never came easy in the storybooks.  They were always twisted.  He could not stop the crushing sense of guilt as he realized that he may have eased the suffering of all of the men outside.  Dead men suffered no longer.

The sun rose as the warrior struggled with himself to make sure he would not use the power of the Crown by accident.  To clear his mind, he simply watched as the sun rose through the mouth of the cave.  The early morning sunlight filtered into the cave and reflected off of his armor.  It highlighted the scratches, the old repaired dents, and the retouched lacquer.  It revealed dust in the air as the stone cracked.  It shone as it passed through drops of sweat on the warrior's skin.  It brought that perfect moment of reflection when time seems to stand still one could take stock in all that has happened.  He bowed his head, let his arms lower to his sides, and closed his eyes.  Sword in one hand, Crown in the other, he wondered how it all came to this.

~~~~~~~~

Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Proof-reading?  I tend to write like a talk: rambling.  So, sometimes, it gets away from me.

[[SiN] Merc]

So my wife and I were just bitching about Eragon.  I know the kid was 15 when he wrote it, but if that little shit can sell tons of copies...well, gorramit, why not?  I've had an idea banging around in my head for a while.  I kinda want to start a book this way.  This is the first time I've typed it out.  Let's see how it looks on paper. 

~~~~

The warrior stood motionless as the world crumbled around him.  He knew this was it.  One could not stand in it's awesome power and not be tempted to use it.  He had fought too long and too hard to keep it out of the possession of others.  He knew he was right.  He knew it for a fact, but then again, didn't everyone?  His hand gripped the Crown so hard that it's spines hurt his palm.  He knew he was like every other damned fool who had held this awesome artifact, all self-righteous and well intentioned.  He wanted to believe that he would be the one who would not succumb to temptation and destroy all he knew, but now at the end of all things, was he so proud?

The sound of metal on metal brought his eyes up to the entrance of the cave.  In the light of the false dawn, the fight was still going on outside.  Men were killing and dying, all for him.  The Crown pulsed gently in his hand.  With this power, he could end it all and ensure that they would not suffer.

As if his the Crown of Amber heard his desire, he felt the barest wisp of it's power flow out of the cave.  There was a brief chorus of screams before his wish was fulfilled.  Shocked to the core, he reigned in his thoughts.  He knew better than that.  Wishes never came easy in the storybooks.  They were always twisted.  He could not stop the crushing sense of guilt as he realized that he may have eased the suffering of all of the men outside.  Dead men suffered no longer.

The sun rose as the warrior struggled with himself to make sure he would not use the power of the Crown by accident.  To clear his mind, he simply watched as the sun rose through the mouth of the cave.  The early morning sunlight filtered into the cave and reflected off of his armor.  It highlighted the scratches, the old repaired dents, and the retouched lacquer.  It revealed dust in the air as the stone cracked.  It shone as it passed through drops of sweat on the warrior's skin.  It brought that perfect moment of reflection when time seems to stand still one could take stock in all that has happened.  He bowed his head, let his arms lower to his sides, and closed his eyes.  Sword in one hand, Crown in the other, he wondered how it all came to this.

~~~~~~~~

Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Proof-reading?  I tend to write like a talk: rambling.  So, sometimes, it gets away from me.

One thing I'd suggest is try to keep your pacing even, and expand on areas. Tell a bit more what the man looks like, a bit more on the people battling outside, the area he's in, anything. At least to me, it seems like it's moving pretty fast for a scene involving reflection by the protagonist.

So, gentlemen, I'm actually working on a novel at the moment. I've got the first draft done, and now I'm going through and editing the shit out of it to make it decent. I could host it on a Gdoc, if anyone would be interested to read it and give me a bit of feedback.

[Neptune]

Merc link=topic=6383.msg247759#msg247759 date=1340143814]
[quote author=Neptune link=topic=6383.msg247695#msg247695 date=1340074574]
So my wife and I were just bitching about Eragon.  I know the kid was 15 when he wrote it, but if that little shit can sell tons of copies...well, gorramit, why not?  I've had an idea banging around in my head for a while.  I kinda want to start a book this way.  This is the first time I've typed it out.  Let's see how it looks on paper. 

~~~~

The warrior stood motionless as the world crumbled around him.  He knew this was it.  One could not stand in it's awesome power and not be tempted to use it.  He had fought too long and too hard to keep it out of the possession of others.  He knew he was right.  He knew it for a fact, but then again, didn't everyone?  His hand gripped the Crown so hard that it's spines hurt his palm.  He knew he was like every other damned fool who had held this awesome artifact, all self-righteous and well intentioned.  He wanted to believe that he would be the one who would not succumb to temptation and destroy all he knew, but now at the end of all things, was he so proud?

The sound of metal on metal brought his eyes up to the entrance of the cave.  In the light of the false dawn, the fight was still going on outside.  Men were killing and dying, all for him.  The Crown pulsed gently in his hand.  With this power, he could end it all and ensure that they would not suffer.

As if his the Crown of Amber heard his desire, he felt the barest wisp of it's power flow out of the cave.  There was a brief chorus of screams before his wish was fulfilled.  Shocked to the core, he reigned in his thoughts.  He knew better than that.  Wishes never came easy in the storybooks.  They were always twisted.  He could not stop the crushing sense of guilt as he realized that he may have eased the suffering of all of the men outside.  Dead men suffered no longer.

The sun rose as the warrior struggled with himself to make sure he would not use the power of the Crown by accident.  To clear his mind, he simply watched as the sun rose through the mouth of the cave.  The early morning sunlight filtered into the cave and reflected off of his armor.  It highlighted the scratches, the old repaired dents, and the retouched lacquer.  It revealed dust in the air as the stone cracked.  It shone as it passed through drops of sweat on the warrior's skin.  It brought that perfect moment of reflection when time seems to stand still one could take stock in all that has happened.  He bowed his head, let his arms lower to his sides, and closed his eyes.  Sword in one hand, Crown in the other, he wondered how it all came to this.

~~~~~~~~

Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Proof-reading?  I tend to write like a talk: rambling.  So, sometimes, it gets away from me.

One thing I'd suggest is try to keep your pacing even, and expand on areas. Tell a bit more what the man looks like, a bit more on the people battling outside, the area he's in, anything. At least to me, it seems like it's moving pretty fast for a scene involving reflection by the protagonist.

So, gentlemen, I'm actually working on a novel at the moment. I've got the first draft done, and now I'm going through and editing the shit out of it to make it decent. I could host it on a Gdoc, if anyone would be interested to read it and give me a bit of feedback.
[/quote]

If this was intended to be vague and sound like stories told in the novel itself, would it serve that function?

[Eightball]

Hmm, as long as all forms of writing are of interest here...

I've just composed the first draft of a personal statement that I'll be using in my applications. I've lined up a couple of family members, as well as an adviser to help proofread/edit/comment, but I wouldn't mind learning from everyone else's experience. I don't want to burden anyone in particular, so rather than PM-bomb people I'll make my plea here: Would anyone be willing to help edit a ~1.5 page essay? The subject is on my motivation to practice medicine, and as it is indeed a rather personal statement I'd rather not post it publicly. Still, if anyone is interested, I would love to hear from you via PM or Steam. Of course, I'd be more than happy to compensate you for taking your time to help me edit it.

[rumsfald]

Still, if anyone is interested, I would love to hear from you via PM or Steam. Of course, I'd be more than happy to compensate you for taking your time to help me edit it.

Sure, I'm game.

What do you have in mind for compensation?

Before I joined this community, I had such an experience...with a skype group chat.

[Eightball]

[quote author=Eightball link=topic=6383.msg247782#msg247782 date=1340154409]
Still, if anyone is interested, I would love to hear from you via PM or Steam. Of course, I'd be more than happy to compensate you for taking your time to help me edit it.

Sure, I'm game.

What do you have in mind for compensation?
[/quote]

Virtual items, if that's your fancy; or a burger and a beer when/if I meet you in person (or if that's impossible, something equivalent in value to a burger and beer). I'm composing a quick preface to explain everything to you and whoever else volunteers.

[[SiN] Merc]

[quote author=[SiN] Merc link=topic=6383.msg247759#msg247759 date=1340143814]
[quote author=Neptune link=topic=6383.msg247695#msg247695 date=1340074574]
So my wife and I were just bitching about Eragon.  I know the kid was 15 when he wrote it, but if that little shit can sell tons of copies...well, gorramit, why not?  I've had an idea banging around in my head for a while.  I kinda want to start a book this way.  This is the first time I've typed it out.  Let's see how it looks on paper. 

~~~~

The warrior stood motionless as the world crumbled around him.  He knew this was it.  One could not stand in it's awesome power and not be tempted to use it.  He had fought too long and too hard to keep it out of the possession of others.  He knew he was right.  He knew it for a fact, but then again, didn't everyone?  His hand gripped the Crown so hard that it's spines hurt his palm.  He knew he was like every other damned fool who had held this awesome artifact, all self-righteous and well intentioned.  He wanted to believe that he would be the one who would not succumb to temptation and destroy all he knew, but now at the end of all things, was he so proud?

The sound of metal on metal brought his eyes up to the entrance of the cave.  In the light of the false dawn, the fight was still going on outside.  Men were killing and dying, all for him.  The Crown pulsed gently in his hand.  With this power, he could end it all and ensure that they would not suffer.

As if his the Crown of Amber heard his desire, he felt the barest wisp of it's power flow out of the cave.  There was a brief chorus of screams before his wish was fulfilled.  Shocked to the core, he reigned in his thoughts.  He knew better than that.  Wishes never came easy in the storybooks.  They were always twisted.  He could not stop the crushing sense of guilt as he realized that he may have eased the suffering of all of the men outside.  Dead men suffered no longer.

The sun rose as the warrior struggled with himself to make sure he would not use the power of the Crown by accident.  To clear his mind, he simply watched as the sun rose through the mouth of the cave.  The early morning sunlight filtered into the cave and reflected off of his armor.  It highlighted the scratches, the old repaired dents, and the retouched lacquer.  It revealed dust in the air as the stone cracked.  It shone as it passed through drops of sweat on the warrior's skin.  It brought that perfect moment of reflection when time seems to stand still one could take stock in all that has happened.  He bowed his head, let his arms lower to his sides, and closed his eyes.  Sword in one hand, Crown in the other, he wondered how it all came to this.

~~~~~~~~

Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Proof-reading?  I tend to write like a talk: rambling.  So, sometimes, it gets away from me.

One thing I'd suggest is try to keep your pacing even, and expand on areas. Tell a bit more what the man looks like, a bit more on the people battling outside, the area he's in, anything. At least to me, it seems like it's moving pretty fast for a scene involving reflection by the protagonist.

So, gentlemen, I'm actually working on a novel at the moment. I've got the first draft done, and now I'm going through and editing the shit out of it to make it decent. I could host it on a Gdoc, if anyone would be interested to read it and give me a bit of feedback.
[/quote]

If this was intended to be vague and sound like stories told in the novel itself, would it serve that function?
[/quote]
Vague can be good in a prologue, don't get me wrong, but you want to be sure you give your reader a decent amount of context as soon as you can.
And as for your second part, what do you mean, exactly? Is it like a fable, say, a character is telling another in the story? If so, there are a few things that could be tweaked, in my opinion.

[kaese]

Eightball, I can proofread if you need more people. No compensation needed.

[TOH]

Eightball, I can proofread if you need more people. No compensation needed.

[Luinbariel]

Well, I'll have a crack at it. I don't know, this is just something that crossed my mind the other day.

-----


It's a beautiful morning.

We've had so much rain in the last few weeks that I hadn't had the chance to walk to work. This is something that I've picked up doing only in the last few weeks, as part of my routine to try and lose some weight. At first I was finding these walks really hard, and that I just wanted to get them over with or take the bus, or cheat in some other way. But on days when there was still wet dew in the grass, and the sun shone down and lit it up like a sea of tiny, glinting crystals on a bed of fresh green, I thought that maybe I was getting to like them.

My husband had already gotten up and gone off to work. I must have slept well, because I didn't even hear him get up and go through his usual routine. Most mornings, I hear his alarm blaring some kind of music from the local radio station, or, if he shuts it off before it has a chance to scare the shit out of me, I hear him making his lunch or getting dressed. But this morning I heard no such thing, and so when I awoke, I was alone in bed.

The cats came to visit me as I went about my own routine for the day. I packed up some strawberries and cheese for lunch, and they rubbed on my ankles and begged me for food. I scratched them behind their ears and rubbed their bellies, thinking it was nice that they were able to be in the same room together without hissing and fighting for once. Normally I'd spend a little more time playing around with them, or going downstairs and checking my email or just hanging out in IRC a bit before I left for work, but I had a lot of energy for once. I was ready to go.

Once I got out the door I realized it was EXACTLY the kind of day I wanted. It was still a bit cool, cool enough that wearing capri pants seemed almost like a bad idea. Even my feet were a bit chilled in my flip flops, and I had to wear a bit of light fleece. Still, the sun was warm, and I was about to warm up myself a little bit in the process. No turning back now.

I walked.

It was gloriously quiet. I think this was the first time that I didn't put on some music while I was walking. I just wanted to listen to the birds, and to hear the morning traffic gearing up. Our area may look like some kind of resort at a lake somewhere, but we were actually quite close to a major road. It was only quiet late at night.

Listening as I walked, I heard plenty of birds, but I didn't really hear many cars. Mondays were always the noisiest day, where traffic was at least twice as heavy as any other day, and after about nine it seemed like the larger, noisier rush quieted down into more steady traffic. I never really noticed it, as most days I was walking quite early, but this day I didn't start until ten. It was nine, now, or just after. I realized just how much difference a little time could make, and wondered at how isolated I could feel from everyone even just a few blocks away.

I began to notice a few other changes as well. When I left earlier in the morning, I would see parents loading their kids into the van for school, or dropping their youngest off for daycare at some house along the way. I'd pass children walking to the nearby schools, or adults walking their dogs for their morning exercise. It was a pretty friendly neighborhood too, with everyone except the young kids making eye contact, saying hello, or stopping to chat with me for a bit. But even just an hour later than usual I was seeing nobody at all.

Along the way I figured I wasn't going to the 7-11 like I usually do. It was nice and convenient and on the way, but I'd been taking advantage of that convenience to buy a drink every morning before work, and it was time I stopped having those. It was nice to walk into a place where they knew me, where they said hello and knew I didn't want a bag for my purchase, but it would be nicer to shed a bit of extra weight and not to bloat from the soft drink, I thought. Plus I was on a roll and was making excellent time.

I changed directions and instead of staying parallel to the main street, just a few blocks in, I headed towards it. Eventually the streets would all end and would turn me towards the main street anyway, as this neighborhood was built on a sort of island surrounded by a river, on top of a dyke. As I headed towards the road, I noticed that something was off. I didn't see a single car pass along Osborne. I wondered if there was a marathon or construction or something, and maybe they'd closed the street off again. But they didn't usually do that until the weekend.

Some little doubts floated around, causing a few butterflies in my stomach, but I laughed at them. Come on, there would be cars. I started thinking up some kind of amusing apocalypse scenarios and wondered if I was fit enough to run for my life in case of zombies. I didn't think it was zombies though. Hadn't seen a single person since I'd left.

I swallowed, thinking back to it. I really hadn't seen a single person and by now, I'd usually seen at least one or two. I stepped up the pace a bit, chewing up the blocks between myself and Osborne. Still didn't see any cars passing. I was going to feel really stupid once I hit the street, that much was for sure.

Osborne was empty. Both ways.

Huh.

The butterflies grew, but I wasn't quite ready to fully accept that something weird was going on. Maybe they barricaded the streets really far back, on both ends. But then why was there no local traffic moving around?

I walked by the local cemetery. The tombstones were silent to my right, behind their fence of stone. Some of them were still knocked over, not yet fixed since the latest bout of nighttime vandalism that seemed to plague this place. They shone in the sunlight, some of them still damp, and I thought that it was probably the first time in a long time that they had witnessed such quiet. Such calm and peace.

I crossed the street. My building wasn't quite in sight yet, because the bus depot was still hulking in the way. I didn't even have to wait for the cross walk or to fight with a cyclist for the sidewalk. I just walked across the road.

It was getting hard to lift my feet. I felt stupid, felt that I was going to have a lot of egg on my face when I got to work and joked with my friends about this. But I was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, anyway. Things didn't just look wrong now. They felt wrong.

Not a single bus moved in the depot.

Not a single bus was parked out back, getting repaired or inspected.

Not a single car was in the Mc Donald's drive through window as I snuck between the depot and the Mc D's.  And as I emerged between them, there was not a single car in the MTS parking lot.

In the back of my mind I was playing out the soundtrack to 28 Days Later, when all the really intense scenes at the end of the movie are going on. There's this pounding, intense build up of sound and you just know that the climax is about to hit, but you're still stuck in the throes of an immense situation and it's driving you insane. I almost wished for the sound to be there, to be real and blaring from somewhere, instead of just in my head, drowning out the alien silence that I'd gotten really tired of.

My security pass got me through the front door, but there was no one to greet me behind the desk. Usually that wouldn't surprise me, but this morning it was just icing on the cake.

The cafeteria gate was up and the lights were on, but no one was in sight. I didn't smell biscuits baking. It was wednesday. There were supposed to be tea biscuits.

I guess I snapped then. I bolted for the nearest door to the stairs, and then climbed those two at a time. I burst through and ran to my department, which should have been open over an hour ago.

The entire floor was empty. Not a single soul in sight. The projector was up and was displaying our stats, but there were no calls in queue and no agents waiting. All the computer screens I could see were dark, but the machines were on; I could hear them humming quietly, waiting for someone to sit down and begin work for the day.

I shuffled back down the stairs, and as I passed the cafeteria, I grabbed a coke from the unlocked cooler. I went outside and sat on the front curb, in the sunshine, and pounded it back as fast as I could.

There was no wondering about where everyone else had gone. They were gone. There was no considering a major prank or having missed a strike or a work outage, or something. There was no prank. No strike. No outage. Somehow I knew they were gone, even if I didn't know where they'd go or how they'd gotten there. They were just gone, and I wasn't.

Thought ceased. I sat, chin resting on my knees, looking out at the sun over the empty lot. I was warm. I existed for awhile.


I dropped the empty can, remembering Kyle. He'd been in bed at least some point this morning. I could prove he had woken up and not simply disappeared when his towel was wet in the bathroom and his keys were missing from the hook. Maybe he'd gone to work and had the same realization. Maybe he was going home and looking for me now.

Grabbing for my cellphone, I realized that in my hurry to get out into the sunshine, I'd left it at home.

Shit.

Panic rose in me and I ran as fast as my flip flops and flab would allow me, back down the empty street, still minding the sidewalk. I was headed home, and he'd better be there when I got back.


---


I dunno what I'm doing. I just wanted to write it out like a story. I really did have a day when I was walking to work exactly like that, where it was way more quiet than I thought and I didn't see or hear a single person until I got to the main street. Then I DID see cars and such, but for that 20 minutes I really did feel like I was alone on the earth.

[[SiN] Merc]

Well, I'll have a crack at it. I don't know, this is just something that crossed my mind the other day.

I liked it, it was a pretty good read, and the first 3/4ths could easily be a simple slice of life story about a woman just walking to work. The major thing I'd mention to keep an eye out for is pacing. The climatic event didn't happen until the last quarter of the story, which seems sort out of rhythm with the rest of it. The other thing I noticed was towards the end was what seemed to me a lack of urgency in her run back. Other than that though, it was good.

[Luinbariel]

That was a fucked up morning. It was weird, and I see what you mean about pacing, because it actually was about 3/4 of the way into the walk before I saw an actual sign of life. The whole time I was kind of freaking out about what if it was real, what if everyone is dead?

[Coelit]

Inska

417 years ago in the large city of Grimele a branch of Cthulhuism grew rapidly yet sublty. This branch of Cthulhuism was reffered to as Fangt which very roughly translates to "Sense of the Madness". Little nowadays is known about this branch other then it died off and was known for having brutal and dark rituals, some not uncommon among many forms of Cthulhuism while some of the others were considered unorthodox even by brother branches in the tree of Cthulhuism. One of these rituals, known as an Inska, lead to the withering and death of Fangt. The meaning of the title of this ritual is shrouded in obscurity, with dramatically different interpretations claimed by different researchers; what is clear about the Inska is how it was performed and its aftermath. The whole point of the entrance ritual was to create a humonoid like creature called Adrias which directly translates to "Destined to Fail". Many times the Adrias were deformed to the point were their organs did not function properly and so death followed closely. After knowledge of the cults and rituals they held emerged to the public It was not uncommon for those with poor complexions or physical disablities to be accused of being an Adrias which often ment an undeserved death. This eventually rose to the need of a solution and after many meetings and debates one was decided. A purge.





WIP

[Didzo]

That was a fucked up morning. It was weird, and I see what you mean about pacing, because it actually was about 3/4 of the way into the walk before I saw an actual sign of life. The whole time I was kind of freaking out about what if it was real, what if everyone is dead?

I actually really liked the way you wrote that passage. Vivid and simple imagery, but I felt something "off" long before the "you" in the story realized something. It's sort of surreal how while the situation becomes urgent and frightening the writing style maintains its serenity. Dream like vibes.

[Didzo]

http://www.writersdiet.com/WT.php?analyse

A thing for determining how lean or flabby your writing is. Pretty neat.

[at0m]

That story creeped the hell out of me, luin.

[[SiN] Merc]

I'm gonna try drumming up a small chapter of a noir piece I'm working on. I'll try to post it in a few days.

[Azure_Angel]

Working on my pitches for my final final project. I can't decide which 3 to pick

Parallels - A reflection of a boy who longs to live in the real world.

Bipolarized - An average joe discovers a pair of sunglasses that greatly alters his personality and looks

Cloud Walker - A hot air balloon pilot ignores Navajo laws, and as a result must learn about the culture.

Rock, Paper, Scissors - 3 citizens of a totalitarian state must escape to live, or fight to the death

Odd Ends - 3 roommates living together must learn to survive with each others hijinks.

Letters - A couple purchase a car, and in the glove box they discover some interesting letters addressed to the previous owner.

The Hero - A little boy is being bullied at school. He doesn’t know how to stand up to them till he goes to sleep where he is a Super Hero. He goes around fighting his “Villains” but when he wakes up and goes to school, his bullies don’t show up. Later he finds out that they were murder in the middle of the night.

[Chooly]

haha I may have killed this thread with this babble.. so i've erased it..

[Chooly]

Cigarette smoke dances up the frosted windowpane,
As the fireplace pops and sizzles;
throwing shadows to dance upon the red velvet.
My whisky glass sweats beads,
they trickle down and stain the leather of my armchair
as the ice fades into non-existance,
against the pops and sizzles of the fireplace.

The pistol in my other hand isn't loaded,
and wouldn't likely fire, even if it were,
it hasn't left this room since it was brought to me,
and neither have I.

Some unknown draft catches the smoke of my still burning cigarette
and it trails along the mantle,
past the neatly folded flag,
the medal of honor,
and the fading yellow photograph of the man this pistol once belonged to.

Still belongs to.

It feels foreign in my hand,
as if resisting my touch, uncomfortable in my posession.
Like a lover in the embrace of someone they could not give their heart to,
longing for the return of a long lost romance.
And the last of my ice cubes vanishes
in the amber of my whisky glass,
and the fireplace pops and sizzles.

A few quiet words were the last I'd heard,
since I threw the bolt to my study.
I haven't said a thing.
Instead I let the songbirds, stirred by dawn's embrace,
and the fire
do the talking.
And the smoke from my cigarette hangs heady in the air,
the fire pops and sizzles,
why do I not despair?

My old friend you've made the ultimate sacrifice,
I'll keep your memory safely locked away tonight,
and like the photo on the mantle, that may as well fade,
but for now I'll hold my brothers keeper,
to it, your life you gave.