storytellerofargyll

[storytellerofargyll]

spooof

I made love to her for the first time the night before her wedding. Every touch was electric, pasionate. I miss the feeling of her lips on mine. I always have. Its been years since we’ve spoken. Her mother found us tangled in the morning rays, laying golden peacefully wrapped in each others arms. I should have left when I first woke, but I craved her touch just for a few more moments. Much yelling and crying transpired that morning as I climbed out the window, barely dressed. I ran through the woods with tears streaming down my face. When I finally stopped, I wrapped my scawl around my shoulders and began my trek to my aunt���s cottage. I could never return to the manor now. I had not been officially fired from my position, but I had no doubt that my employment was over. I found a singular yellow blossom among the red forest, and I thought of nothing but her golden hair. Gently, I plucked the bloom from the prison of the ground, something I never dreamed I would be able to do for my love. Once I reached my aunt’s cottage, I hung the flower up to dry out and then ever so carefully placed the miniture flower into an equally small glass jar, which I have worn around my neck since. It has been years since then. We were so young, so pure. Not quite grown, but not quite children. All these years, I have waited for her. I grew my hair out long, and began braiding it in the same way I had for my dear for all the years of our youth. During our time apart, I had learned my aunt’s trade of the midwife and many times I had returned to the manor hoping to find her visiting her parents. A few months ago, it seemed that she and her husband had taken to  living with her parents. This puzzled me as he was a lord and owned many coal mines in near and distant lands. I kept out of sight. I wouldn’t risk anyone, even my own love seeing me. I feared the consequences. She had even began venturing to my aunt’s cottage, but I kept away even then. My love was preganant with my rival’s child. Their first born. My aunt died a few weeks ago and in my grief I wondered to the manor to look upon my love who was big in the belly, nearly due for birth. I was caught. Not by my love or even her family, but instead by strangers. They asked who I was to the family, but I remained silent. My silence only gained me bruises. The group of strangers explained that they were planning to put an end to my love’s husband. It seemed that he was deep in debt to their employers. I smiled wide. I told them of the secret entrances and gifted them my last relic of the manor, a set of keys. My mother and I had worked as maids for the manor since I was a young child. I knew far too well the labyrinth of the inside and I willingly gave them this information. I made but one request, “Kill the entire family. Every member. But allow <lfkjadfj> to escape. She is with child”. They explained that they could fulfill my request. They must kill the baby and to do so kill the mother. I explained that I was the midwife for my love and that she would surely come to me. They weary agreed.

Now, I see the plooms of smoke billowing into the night sky from the far off manor and hear the galloping of a horse along with the pains of a mother in agony. I smile widely. She is coming to me, finally. I help her into the cottage, but she does not recognize me. The pain was overtaking all her senses. She labored hard into the night until finally her new born son arrived. My love was weak from the delivery and I cursed the dead man who had caused this damned ailment upon her. She faded in and out of awareness for days. I cared for her and the baby in this time. I could not hurt him. Although he was the son of my rival, he was also born from my love. Immediately I had loved him as my own. When she finally awoke, she called for <DFLDSJFL>. The devil was not even among the living anymore and he still plagued my every moment with my love. I arrived at her side, patting her face with a cool cloth, “Hello my beautiful”. She shot up in the bed scared and shocked. “<DFLDK>? How? Where am I?” I explained that we were at my aunt’s cottage, but that I was the midwife now, since my aunt’s recent death. “I never knew. I never knew you…” <FDLKFJ> struggled. “Because I never wanted you to know”, I responded. I leaned down to kiss her only to be pushed away. Anger shot through my body. All these years. All this time and she does not love me anymore? “What happened? Where is my family? Where is my husband?” <JDLFKJD> asked. I sighed and told the lie that I had planned during her slumber, “From what I have heard at the market, there was a fire at the manor, only you escaped. Everyone says it was caused by an unattended lantern.” Panic shot through her as she bellowed, “LIES! They lie! These-- these assassins- they-they---”. She was cut off by her own sobbing. I wiped her tears and avoided her sorrow soaked eyes, “<DFKDL>, the kingsmen have investigated. They say it was an accident. The town believes all of you died. No one knows you are still alive.” She cried at me, “Why? Why didn’t you tell them I was here?” I responded calmly even as my mind screamed, “I thought it would be best if you told them yourself. You have been so weak since you arrived. I wasnt sure if you would live.” I reached to kiss her head gingerly only to be pushed away again. “How long have i been here?”, she questioned. “A few weeks, you have been sleeping mostly. You have been barely awake enough to eat and--” Her words sliced through mine with more panic, “My baby! Where is my baby?” I stood, walking away from her, “Dead”. I prayed the baby upstairs would remain quiet for a bit longer. She began crying hysterically again, and I brewed a concoction that would make her rest again, just long enough to hide the baby. I dug a small plot in the garden and placed flowers over the false grave. For a few days I kept giving her sleeping brews until she was strong enough to leave on her own. On the final day, I cooked a large meal for her. As we ate, she asked again about the baby, “Was it a boy or a girl?” “A girl,” I cooly replied as I stared down at my plate. “What did you do with him?” “I dug a small grave in my garden. I hope that is acceptable.” She grabbed my hand and thanked me for everything. She grabbed the few things she had managed to bring with her during the escape from the attack. “<fjaljf>, have you seen my cloak and crest? I can not find it.” For the first time in our lives, I lied to <DJFLDS> as I stared deep into her dark eyes, “You didn’t have it with you.” She cursed under her breath. I did not want to lie about her baby or her status symbols, but I had to protect her. I did not trust the assassins. They may come try to finish the job. She placed a hand upon my cheek and I flinched at the action. She tried to draw away and apologize, but I stopped her bringing her hand back and leaning my cheek down to it. <djdlafj> brought my face to hers and kissed me gently. This is what I had waited years for, what I had craved during the golden days and the lonely nights. But it wasn’t right, because it was goodbye, and I knew it. I held back the tears in my eyes as I pulled her tightly to me deepening our kiss. Of course, <dlafjl> pulled away first. She grazed her fingers across my trembling lips. My voice trembled as much as my lips, “<DFJD>, I-I.. I--” She didn’t allow me to finish, “I know.” We stood in silence for what felt like centuries until she spoke again, “Can you show me where my son is buried?” I nodded and led her to the plot. I knew something was wrong as we approached the grave. My love’s face was turning red. She fell to her knees and ripped the flowers from the grave dirting her dress. “You idiot!”, she screamed. Turning to me, she showed me none of the tenderness from minutes before. She stood and shoved me backwards, “My people do not place flowers or other dying things upon the grave! You only wish more death upon the departed!” With those last words, she mounted her horse and rode away. In that moment, I wished to never see her again. I still loved her, but something dangerous lurked within that love now. Something, I don’t understand, yet I embrace.

[storytellerofargyll]

our story. 4 months later, he still catches me off guard. And we are getting a place together soon since our ‘friend’ is kicking him out and choosing not to rent to me last minute. 

Not So Platonic Tornadoes

During hot August, just before Labor Day, that’s when it started. A week before, I had left my driver’s license at a tattoo parlor a few cities away. It had been storming all week, hurricanes down at the coast causing tornadoes through the towns around us. I was scared to make the drive by myself. With a promise to come over to watch a movie with you after, you came along for the ride. Surprisingly during the ride up there, the weather was calm– just a few sprinkles here and there. We hadn’t seen each over since maybe January because of quarantine. But we had been messaging each other constantly over spring and summer. You even got flirty before I told you I was seeing someone. Then after the breakup, you began again– slowly, unsure. During the ride though, it felt like no time had passed when we were apart. It felt like we were even closer. When we got back we made a trip to Walmart and then to get food. Then the storms closed in almost as soon as we got back to your house. We cuddled up as friends, like we always had and put on some Netflix original movie about pills that gave people superpowers. Not even twenty minutes into the movie, the power went out. No movie, no lights, no air conditioning. It was probably around 5 or 6pm– not dark yet, but dark, but very gloomy because of the storms. The thunder clapping and music from our phones were the only sounds we heard other than our laughter. You opened the windows, because it was August in the south and it was extremely hot and humid– especially because of the storms. Even as hot as it was, you wouldn’t let me uncuddle from me and you didn’t want me to leave. I was tired of cuddling and getting hotter so I sat on your stomach and began tickling you. It wasn’t anything unusual. I used to do this all the time, but this time was different. I don’t remember how–maybe you had tickled my sides, maybe I lost my balance, I don’t know but somehow– our faces ended up just an inch apart. All the feelings I had months before that had been stuffed down and torched resurfaced in that moment and it felt like the world stopped as I looked deep into your eyes. They always looked like the sky–somehow a dark yet light blue all at once. I remember laughing and then my breath hitching. Then suddenly, I remember your lips on mine and my eyes opening wide. I remembered that Halloween night last year and how desperately I wanted to kiss you then. I remembered being in this same position craving your kiss then. Then I realized what had happened. You had done it. You had actually kissed me. When your eyes opened, they had that twinkle in them. The same twinkle you had each time you purposefully made me mad or told some awful funny story and laughed. I decided your mischief wouldn’t win. I kiss you back. I kissed you like it was a competition. Like you had just hit me with a pillow and I was coming back for revenge. You rolled me over off of you and pulled my mouth to yours again. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, fighting with lips and tongues in the heat of the evening. I do remember feeling confused and happy as I left. I was unsure of what would happen, but I was content as you kissed me at the door. 

[storytellerofargyll]

[storytellerofargyll]

[storytellerofargyll]

Her love was stolen by the society around them, but even if it meant their death, she’d have her love back

[storytellerofargyll]

Many said they were like sisters.

Many were wrong, they weren’t sisters. They were lovers.

First loves and for one an only love

[storytellerofargyll]

Me, a writer: *has an good idea for a story/fanfic*

Also me: “I wish somebody would write that.”

[storytellerofargyll]

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

[storytellerofargyll]

hey. hey. I have a confession

I fuckin LOVE dialogue as a first line. I adore it. whenever I flip open a book and the first line is dialogue I’m like hell YES this is my SHIT

there’s lists of, uh, TOP TEN WAYS YOU SHOULD NEVER START YOUR NOVEL EVER and “opening with dialogue” is always on them

the gist being that it’s bad bc the reader doesn’t care about this character yet so why are they gonna care about this dialogue, right, they don’t have any context for it, you should start with something that gets the reader invested and emotionally pulled in, so on, so forth

(and I’m not here to argue or call bullshit on these lists or anything…… 99% of the time, the reasons listed of why you should Maybe Not Do The Thing are perfectly valid concerns and dangers that should be taken into consideration)

(this post is more a ramble about personal preference with a nice moral at the end)

(and definitely not a TOP TEN REASONS “TOP TEN WAYS YOU SHOULD NEVER START YOUR NOVEL EVER” LISTS ARE LIES AND SLANDER post god could you imagine)

but yeah, for me, dialogue opening lines pull me right the fuck in emotionally. for real. nine times out of ten they’ll yank me in and have me engaged instantaneously. always have, probably always will

(like come on. have y’all never just started eavesdropping right in the middle of some total strangers’ conversation on the bus. especially if it’s somethin weird. it’s so good)

but ANYWAY, the moral is uhhhh

whatever Mortal Writing Sin you wanna commit, there’s probably at least one weirdo out there possibly named logan who digs it

do whatever the fuck you want, honestly

you can write an opening scene that does everything every advice page tells you to do with an opening scene and it can still be shit

you can write an opening scene doing everything every advice page tells you NEVER to do with your opening scene and it can still be fabulous and engaging

if you can pull it off, literally who cares

[storytellerofargyll]

GOOD GRAMMAR DOES NOT A WRITER MAKE.

“But I can’t like, be a real writer, I suck at grammar.”

I’ve heard that way too many times. Yes, grammar is definetely an important part of writing (especially in a finished product), but that’s all it is, one part. As an early writer, please do not let it discourage you. Here’s why.

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Impeccable grammar has almost nothing do with with good writing.

-

There are a million other things that are important for clear communication of language. Voice, clarity, concision, creativity, accuracy. Those things all develop over time. Nobody reads for grammar, people read for story.

This is not to say that grammar doesn’t matter, or will never matter. Grammar is important, and it eventually can determine the proffessionalism of your work. But it is NOT a prerequisite to starting writing as a craft!Grammar develops, and it will improve the more you read, and the more you write.

TLDR: Start with ideas, stories that you’re passionate about. Worry about split inifinitives and semicolons later.

[storytellerofargyll]

oh wow, thanks homer!! i wondered when his next book was going to come out

[storytellerofargyll]

STOP

Every time you see this post on your dash, open up your WIP and write one sentence. It doesn’t matter if the sentence is good, makes sense or works perfectly with your story. You can go back to edit it later. 

Congrats, you made some progress on your WIP!

Make sure to reblog to help fellow writers make progress on their wip!

[storytellerofargyll]

Acacias Poof

“I was unfamiliar with the sea, but I had heard stories of fearsome creatures. Stories of man sized spider creatures that sucked blood with their arms, armored fish that had swords embedded in their heads, but Acacias, he reminded me of a creature I saw in a book once. I don’t recall the name of the fish, but it did not resemble any fish I had seen before. It had a bubbled soft top and long tangled arms. It seemed to be gentle, but if it touched you with one of its arms, it caused that place to burn with the fire of a hundred suns. No cure of land or sea was known. Acacias was must like that strange fish. Yet I couldn’t help but want to reach out to him”

[storytellerofargyll]

Archive of Our Own

that knowing smirk that creeps across your face when clicking accept on the disclaimer page on Archive of Our Own knowing you are about to read some disgusting ass shit and love every minute of it while those around you are clueless

[storytellerofargyll]

Poof

“Duchess ***, you once reminded me *** that I was not his sun or moon, that he would swallow me with his darkness, but I think that you’ve forgotten that you are only one of the countless stars in his night sky too.”

[storytellerofargyll]

Poof

“He may act like the night sky. You may think he will let you shine as a star amongst his darkness, but don’t forget, you are not his sun or moon. He will swallow you whole.”

[storytellerofargyll]

Poof

“Don’t fool yourself, girl. I know what my husband is, why do you think I chose him? For love? Ha. I married him for the power he could bring me. He is a monster and so am I.”