So, in addition to being a blogger blogging about random things, I used to write stories too. I wrote several stories but only one ever reached the length of a novel… Well, a novella at most. That is also my only finished story. It’s called Locked Out of Heaven and I have excerpts from it below. You guys lemme know if you want to read the whole thing.
It started as a 9th-grade writing assignment but I was unsatisfied with only one chapter so I kept writing. I finished it over a year later, in the summer after sophomore year. Needless to say, it kind of sucks. I wasn’t a good writer then and I’m still not a good writer now. This isn’t the kind of genre I would usually choose but I made do. In any case, read it and tell me if you think it would be worth your time to read the whole thing. The book is 23 chapters long with a total of 30K+ words. If anything else, it could serve as inspiration for those who aspire to be writers because they’ll get to see that someone else (me) could write and finish this sort of story without dying from cringe attacks and still publish it for others to see (I did put this story and all my other stories on Wattpad and Quotev, not that a lot of people actually read it).
Warning: There is swearing. There’s also the ongoing theme of death and depression. Beware of cringe attacks as well. I also have names of guns in there that I know nothing about. So…. yeah Also, minor spoilers.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 6:
His heart was in a flurry. It’s funny how just the thought of her sent his heart beating. He looked around his apartment frantically, trying to think of something he might have missed. His eyes caught on the mirror hanging by the entrance and he rushed up to it. A few hairs have gotten out of place since he last checked. He let out a frustrated “Aaaargh!” That was just two minutes ago.
Roberto willed his hands to stay by his side. He slowly walked to his couch and threw himself down. A muffled groan issued from the pillow under his face. He turned over and closed his eyes.
“Stop it. Stop… it…” His mind lost the fight against his heart, who continued beating as hard as it had been. His face in the mirror had been flushed and his pupils were dilated. Before he gets mistaken as a stoner, he needs to calm the fuck down.
His mind conjured up a picture of Cal. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breath in…” His eyes shot open and he threw a pillow at a pigeon outside the window. The pillow hit the window pane and fell miserably onto the floor. The bird cooed and ruffled his feathers, unimpressed.
Roberto hid his face in his hands. “This is so… stupid.” Thinking of Cal made him think of tea and incense. He wished he was with Cal now. Cal would laugh at him. Roberto blushed. Yes. That sounded like Cal. A giggle sounded in the silence. Roberto stiffened, surprised, but the giggle turned into a paroxysm of body-shaking laughter. The pigeon outside swiveled its head at the sound of Roberto’s giggle and when the torrent of laughter hit him, gave a coo of alarm and swiftly took to the skies.
Finally, the giddy feeling passed and Roberto laid exhausted from his outburst. He put a hand over his heart. It was still racing as fast as it had been. But this time, he smiled instead. It’s going to be alright.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 12:
He is a mess again. He managed to make it to his apartment without any trouble, but once he locked the door behind him, the reckless urge to forget everything came back to him. He got halfway through a bottle before he stopped himself and poured the rest down the sink. He sat in misery for the next several hours, feeling the floor next to him for the phantom bottle and realizing it wasn’t there. The alcohol was enough to make him slightly woozy but kept him hot enough so that he couldn’t sleep. But eventually, he drifted off.
And the dreams came. Distorted faces crying, screaming and then still, in death. A ghost flitted by the edge of his vision, something with green-blue eyes. The words thank you floated around him, but no matter which way he turned, he couldn’t tell which of the tortured faces said it. And then, for a moment, everything faded to black. That’s when the ringing started. He’s running in the maze again, trying to find the source of the ringing. This time, he couldn’t find his way out. And the ringing kept becoming fainter no matter how much he ran. And then, it faded away entirely. Roberto stopped, panicked, turning around in circles, searching. But it was gone.
The walls around him disappeared and he’s standing over Ashton’s body. Ashton’s eyes were open. Roberto was standing by his feet. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel anything. He took in every detail; Ashton’s red Converse, his denim jacket, the Chicago Cubs baseball cap. All splattered in brilliant red. Roberto moved to close Ashton’s eyes, but a thorny vine closed around his fingers. A thorn broke into his skin and blood welled up. But his blood wasn’t red. It was dark blue. On Ashton’s chest, a bush of red roses had grown from his blood, but upon contact with Roberto’s, they withered and turned into violet buds. Buds that bloomed and revealed mouths of sharp teeth. As the thorn lapped up more blood, the corrupted rose bush began to grow fruit. Little, round, red fruit. And they only grew bigger and heavier, bending the branches that they grew on. Mesmerized, Roberto plucked the biggest fruit and put it into his mouth and bit down.
Roberto’s eyes flew open. The taste of blood was in his mouth, lingering after his dream. The dream was already a distant memory. Then, he realized the blood was actually in his mouth and he had bitten through his lower lip. He reached up to dab at his lip. To his relief, his finger came away red. The sky was lightening up outside. He had slept through the night. He shook his head and headed to the bathroom. A long shower would help clear his mind.
And hide his tears.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 15:
Roberto jumped when the windows started rattling. The wind seemed to slam into the windows with a vengeance. Then, the howling started. The pitch of the sound rose and fell. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was in a city, he would’ve thought it was wolves. He shook his head. Looking out the window, past the fire escape, all he could see was the straight-edged silhouettes of buildings with occasional glimpses of dim streetlights surrounded by a sea of darkness, or maybe that was just because of all the dirt on the window panes. It was all too easy for the childhood monsters to come back. Wait.
Roberto went up to the window and tried to open it. Years of rust had sealed the window shut. What could he use? He looked around, but nothing looked like it could wrench a window open. He took off his jacket and holding it in front of his face and chest, he kicked the window pane. It didn’t break. The window didn’t as much as crack. He cursed. Of course, a window in a mental hospital wasn’t going to break easily. He tried again, aiming for the same spot. Nothing. When a third try didn’t yield anything different, he slumped back against the wall, ankle throbbing.
If only he could reach the fire escape outside. His hand fell to his pocket and closed around Ashton’s key. He sat there. A cold feeling seeped through him. Had he failed? An annoying lump was pressing up against his leg and he reached down to adjust his- He stopped. Goddammit, he was stupid.
He has two goddamn guns on him and he tried using his foot to break through the motherfucking glass.
He took out his Colt Mustang and emptied a cartridge into the window pane. It was almost too easy. Wiping the windowsill with his jacket, he made sure that all the glass shards were all the floor and then, he was on the fire escape. He looked up. The fire escape, though old, was kept in relatively good repair. So that’s how Kyerstan managed to disappear. He tightened his grip on his gun and ascended. As the wind howled around him, tearing straight through his jacket, he hardened his heart into ice. He would do what he came to do.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 16:
She drew a shuddering breath. “I knew how he was, he was famous for it, but I was still drawn in. Then, a month later, I heard of an intruder and when I got there… There he was.” She reached out like she could see him. “Even then, I still couldn’t get his heart.” She laughed, full of bitterness. She clutched her bullet wound. It should hurt, laughing like that, but she kept going. Eventually, the laugh turned into quiet sobs. She curled up into a fetal position, whimpering.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 21:
He broke out of darkness onto the roof of the apartment and turned around, readying himself for an attack. Galen stepped into the sunlight, Desert Eagle in hand. Roberto noted that the safety was off.
“I thought you were dead.”
Galen smirked, an expression that was horribly alien to his face. “Too bad, huh?”
“Did you… did you see them?” The blood, the bodies and the smell of death. Did you see what I saw? Do you blame me? Was it my fault?
Galen brought his gun up and Roberto was looking into the barrel that could be his death. “Do you want to follow them?”
In response, Roberto stepped back as if that small increase in distance could save him from the possibility of those words.
“I see. Then we have nothing else to talk about.” Galen turned and started towards the stairs. Shame added to the ranks of guilt and Roberto found himself needing release from their suffocating accusations.
And finally, an excerpt from Chapter 22:
Roberto heard it and started to run. Down the stairs and away from there. He half-stumbled, half-fell down the stairs, his concussion reminding him that it was still there. Somewhere, a police siren turned a corner and came really close. That sound filled him with panic. Images surfaced in his mind. All the bodies. The piles of corpses and the smell of death. All those empty eyes. [Missing sentence because of major spoiler]
Something licked at his heels and Roberto looked back, still running. A flood of blood rushed towards him, threatening to swallow him in his past. And so, he fled to the only place he knew to be untouched by the cruelty of the world.
He’s a little boy again. Running from the older boys. From the big scary dog. From the old man telling him that he was his father.
To that little shack in the midst of the mud and filth with a tray of tea waiting for him.
So comment or like if you think this could potentially be interesting. Or PM me. Maybe I’ll post it anyway just cuz. I do have to say though, that the story does get marginally better the more you read because I did improve my style in the year that I spent working on it. I also have other stories I want to post that are way better but they’re not complete and I’m not sure if I’m ever to going to complete them. Besides, Outlet isn’t for stories… jk it’s for whatever I want it to be for but if I’m really going to start uploading my stories, I should make a subdomain for Outlet just for my stories. So… yeah– just let me know what you guys think.
In any case, this is Lieutenant and I’ll talk to you later.