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Pen My Soliloquy
Fiction by Arsenic--Allure
Created on 2009-01-05 13:00:25 (#17860928), last updated 2009-08-07
11 comments received, 19 comments posted
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61 Journal Entries, 66 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Arsenic--Allure |
|---|---|
| Website: | The Harry Potter Lexicon |
Bio'Perhaps as a result of my excesses, I had been extemporizing in my sleep and reawoke in the difficult middle of a grand and sweeping thought. These grand and sweeping thoughts of mine were gorgeously arrayed by the subconscious; lit by some great source, their concavities and feminine convexities command the attention of my inner eye - exciting it with certainties, fresh theories, those banks of memory easily accessed by the dream-agent. There were times I awoke on the tail of some truth and instead of rousing my body, my consciousness would stumble backward, frantic to retain such insight, I muddled myself: ideas flew from me like static. I was quite capable of literally reverberating with confusion. The mind has a swift, silent, unflagging pace, and its journey is never linear.'
-- Gambotto, A. The Pure Weight of the Heart. Phoenix House, 1998 London.
‘Yes, she was waiting for me...waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride...as she hoped to be saved....And, when I...came forward, more timid than...a little child, she did not run away...no, no...she stayed...she waited for me....I even believe...daroga...that she put out her forehead...a little...oh, not much...just a little... like a living bride....And...and...I...kissed her!... I!...I!...I!...And she did not die!...Oh, how good it is, daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead!...You can't tell!... But I! I!... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And I fell at her feet, crying ...and I kissed her feet...her little feet...crying. You're crying, too, daroga...and she cried also...the angel cried!...’ Erik sobbed aloud and the Persian himself could not retain his tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns.
‘Yes, daroga...I felt her tears flow on my forehead...on mine, mine!...They were soft...they were sweet!...They trickled under my mask...they mingled with my tears in my eyes...yes ...they flowed between my lips....Listen, daroga, listen to what I did....I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears...and she did not run away!...And she did not die!... She remained alive, weeping over me, with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!’
-- G. Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera. P. Lafitte and Cie, France 1910.
Eighteen. Female. Australian. Bachelor of Arts (Psychology) student. Bibliophilic. Writer. Aspiring academic psychologist. Scientist. Creative mind. Focused. Lives at desk. Hearing impaired.
I will observe you. I will take this observation and I will write about you, someday, somehow, somewhere. While I am working, I will think of you, of your quirks, your voice, your eyes, your hair, the illusion of your touch. Sometimes, I will think of you when I am sad and sometimes I will think of you while I think of someone else. You will appear to me in my dreams and exist in my every breath. Maybe I will haunt you as you haunt me. Maybe I will cease to breathe because I thought of you. Reader, know this: I will think of you, I will dream of you, I will observe you...
Arsenic--Allure,
-AA-
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head)
-- S. Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song: A Wind of Such Violence.
Original Fiction.
Fan Fiction.
‘Me!’ said Hermione. ‘Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery…’
-- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Bloomsbury, Great Britain 1997.
-- Gambotto, A. The Pure Weight of the Heart. Phoenix House, 1998 London.
‘Yes, she was waiting for me...waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride...as she hoped to be saved....And, when I...came forward, more timid than...a little child, she did not run away...no, no...she stayed...she waited for me....I even believe...daroga...that she put out her forehead...a little...oh, not much...just a little... like a living bride....And...and...I...kissed her!... I!...I!...I!...And she did not die!...Oh, how good it is, daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead!...You can't tell!... But I! I!... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And I fell at her feet, crying ...and I kissed her feet...her little feet...crying. You're crying, too, daroga...and she cried also...the angel cried!...’ Erik sobbed aloud and the Persian himself could not retain his tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns.
‘Yes, daroga...I felt her tears flow on my forehead...on mine, mine!...They were soft...they were sweet!...They trickled under my mask...they mingled with my tears in my eyes...yes ...they flowed between my lips....Listen, daroga, listen to what I did....I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears...and she did not run away!...And she did not die!... She remained alive, weeping over me, with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!’
-- G. Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera. P. Lafitte and Cie, France 1910.
Eighteen. Female. Australian. Bachelor of Arts (Psychology) student. Bibliophilic. Writer. Aspiring academic psychologist. Scientist. Creative mind. Focused. Lives at desk. Hearing impaired.
I will observe you. I will take this observation and I will write about you, someday, somehow, somewhere. While I am working, I will think of you, of your quirks, your voice, your eyes, your hair, the illusion of your touch. Sometimes, I will think of you when I am sad and sometimes I will think of you while I think of someone else. You will appear to me in my dreams and exist in my every breath. Maybe I will haunt you as you haunt me. Maybe I will cease to breathe because I thought of you. Reader, know this: I will think of you, I will dream of you, I will observe you...
Arsenic--Allure,
-AA-
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head)
-- S. Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song: A Wind of Such Violence.
Original Fiction.
Fan Fiction.
‘Me!’ said Hermione. ‘Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery…’
-- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Bloomsbury, Great Britain 1997.
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