Post by sarah on Jan 6, 2008 16:16:19 GMT -5
Name: Sarah
Age: Middle school range [11-14]
Experience: Two and a half years
How you found us: Neoboards advertisement, conducted elegantly by Poe.
Role play Sample:
Okay, just a fair warning, for my first one, the site I used this on, was a little more of the. . .violent and cursing type, but this is I think one of my best ones. The other one I put, is a much smaller, more warm, family-ish type, but it's about a two year old. xD
First Example:
The sky was cloudy. Well, cloudy hardly covered it. More like, gray bleak, and the sun will never reappear, kind of look. Jim sighed, looking up at it sadly. His eyes drifted down to his younger brother Day, who was throwing some rocks at a pigeon nest up in a tree.
Jim was only seventeen at the time, and to him, high school sucked. His light brown hair, softly blew in the breeze, and he had just recently shaved, giving himself a mature and refined look. Too bad his brother couldn't do the same.
Dayton Harden, continued to throw the rocks. Today had not been his day. He had missed delivering the money his boss wanted, and his boss would not be happy. But Jim had had to watch Day so closely, he couldn't get way. "Fuck you Jim." he whispered angrily. Day's dirty blond hair blew fondly in the breeze, and his hazel eyes were cold and hard. He wore a leather jacket over American eagle jeans, and a shirt that read, Guns are what make us humans.
Jim watched his younger brother sadly. "Day, c'mon. What the hell is going on with you lately?"
Day remained silent. There was no point to life. His mom abandoned them, his family hated him, and now his boss probably wanted him to go to fucking hell, and there was not much he could do about it.
He then looked up, as a black beat up Chevy sped up the road. The Chevy had mud caked all over it's tires, and possibly even some blood. The doors had tons of scratch marks over them, and looked as if it hadn't been clean for years. it was his Chevrolet. The boss' himself. Slowly, Day put his backpack, down, unzipped it, and wrapped his fingers tightly around some cool metal, his knuckles now a pure white. Then very carefully, he pulled it out.
Jim saw what he was doing. "Stop it asshole, put it away!" he reached over to snatch it from Day.
But Day couldn't let him do it. He needed the gun to save his own skin. So fighting back tears, he punched Jim hard in the nose.
"FUCK!" Jim screamed, grabbing his bloody nose. He fumbled around with his fingers then, trying to tear off some of his shirt. Of course, Jim had no real "muscle" so he had to take out a knife to actually get it off. Quickly, he placed to strip of cloth onto his bleeding nose. Blood dripped down his face.
While Jim clutched his nose, HE stepped out. Day aimed the gun, but before he could shoot, two men came out beside the boss, with there own guns. "Shit." Day whispered, firing.
The shot missed, and all hell broke loose. Jim dropped the cloth, and seized the knife, running toward one of the thugs, who flicked him away as easily as an annoying little gnat. The knife, spun out of his hands, falling down into a grate on the street. "NO!" Jim yelled, turning his head back to Day. But it was to late. The boss, just sneered, and fired the bullet.
It took five minutes for Jim's world to rip apart. Five minutes, for him to hold his brother tightly in his arms, sobbing. Blood still was spurting out of his nose, and one of the neighbors had called 911.
Softly, Day spoke into Jim's ear. The wound hurt worse than any pain he had ever experienced, but Day knew he could survive it. But he didn't want too. He was sick of his shitty life, so smiling sadly at Jim, he knocked Jim out with the gun he still had, digging into his thigh.
Then slowly, as Jim passed out, Day took one last agonizing breath, and shot himself.
No one ever knew. The cops blamed the gang, which was tried for murder, and placed in jeuvie. Jim always knew in the back of his heart, but refused to believe it. When he woke up in the hospital, (Day's hit with the gun had given him a pretty bad concussion) the look on his father and sister's face told him what had happened.
As seventeen year old Jim lay back down on the hospital bed, he silently contemplated his brothers last words, I'm sorry.
Second Example:
A purple cloud obscured the vision of it's surroundings, and made everything hazy, like a giant lavender smelling cloud. As the early rays of a strange bright yellow hit the purple cloud, the whole area sparkled, and entranced the object in the middle of the purple haze.
/Stay wrapped inside my arms/
An angel's laughter was heard amiss the cloud, and a clank, hit the hardwood floor, that was now slightly visible beneath the lavender fresh smelling puffs. Slowly, the clouds cleared, and an empty dented can of air freshener lay all used and forlorn on the ground. Next to the can lay an angel with honey curls laid sprawled all over the ground, resembling an obscene halo.
/for they will keep you safe/
The angel's eyelashes batted up and down, her soft hazel eyes wide with pleasure. Hopefully, the angel picked up the cloud maker and pushed on the magic moving part that made the purple clouds, but nothing came. Disappointment overwhelmed the angel's eyes, and she laid back against a lavender sheet, until a notion penetrated her thoughts.
/and warm./
Three hours had passed. Suddenly, the angel was no longer an angel, but a two year old girl, with the desperate knowledge of time.
/But if you ever need me/
The toddler clawed at her imprisonment, but nothing happened. Panic hitting her, she began to yank on the golden rod sticking out from the 'cell door' but it remained still and unmoving. Her fingers twitching uncontrollably, she tried to pull down her pajama pants, but could only stare at her huggies for six seconds, then yanked them back up. The rules would not let her free herself.
/and I am nowhere to be found/
The toddler picked up her two pets: a sky blue, and a lavender bunny by the names of Sky and Lilac. The bunnies tried to pull down her pajamas for her, but they could not do it either. Only her mother could. The purple clouds had long since faded, and the child was left with only knowing three hours had past. A strangled sound escaped
her throat, and she began to jump up and down in fretful anticipation.
/Hug the closest person to you/
OCD. Very rare at such an early age. But Hunter, the honey haired angel's name, was not a normal person. No, she was different, which was why everything she owned was clean. And why every time she woke up, her room had to be sprayed, for soon tiny little cries would erupt in the air, and foul smelling diapers were soon to follow.
/and let them guide you/
Temper tantrums were thrown quite often, because if things were not perfect, were to loud, were to soft, were to smelly, or something else that would tick off Hunter's OCD, she would erupt into spasms. Some of the doctor's thought she had a little bit of autism, but she was at to young an age for them to know for sure. But other than that, Hunter was a sweet girl, if not brutally honest. Lying was not her strong point, unless it was framing some one for something she did. Though she had a very jumpy personality, and loved the color lavender, and bunnies.
/to my heart./
For now though, none of that mattered. She began to writhe on the floor, screaming in anger as the dry huggies clung to her lower half.
