I wasn’t quite up to getting my Alphabet Tips blog done for the night, though I’m getting there and I should have it posted in the morning. I thought, instead, that I would share a piece of my writing with you all. Sharing your writing is truly frightening, daunting. It’s all the pressure that people won’t like it, that you made a mistake, that it isn’t perfect.
So, instead of fretting about all of that, I’m not going to read it a dozen times before I share it. I’m just going to write, and let it be. There might be mistakes, errors… but I know that there will be something else: creativity. Pure, honest creativity… and I think that, in and of itself, is worth putting out there. So, without further delay, here’s my writing Preview!
— (You saw the first of this in my writing prompt, I’m reposting here so you can have the full version of it, though there is more to come) —
In the gathering twilight, I could no longer make out his expression, but I imagined he looked pissed. Annoyed at the very least. It wasn’t as though I could blame him, but his fury was a thing that made me quiver inside. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I was afraid of the waves of disappointment, the hurt, the betrayal that would cross his features in the wake of his anger. I was afraid of spoiling the careful trust that I’d built between us – it was something that I couldn’t stand.
“Wait, please.” My voice came out soft, an echo in the twilight that was nearly drowned out by the gentle rain that had started to fall. His dark eyes were full of emotion – definitely more than annoyed. Fuck, but I was in trouble. I could see the way that the brown color was swirling to a near black; I was almost afraid to approach him.
Somehow, I screwed up the courage and did it anyway. My hand came forward, resting against the steely hardness of his arm. When he spoke, it was scathing, and it cut me deeper than any knife. “Don’t touch me.”
Oh, but I didn’t want to hear him talk to me that way. It wasn’t a snippy response, like you hear some people trot out. His words were a demand, nearly a vow signed in conviction. It was the termination of our relationship in three words, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to talk him out of it.
“Please, just listen to me, I–“
“Have no excuse for what you did. You killed them.” He turned to me, and his eyes were wide, so that the whites flashed in the darkness of the street. “You killed them all.”
I stopped. I frowned. I took a breath and started to speak, but found the words caught in my throat… because the simple fact of the matter was, he was right. I had killed them – every single one of them.
And I would have done it again, given the chance.
Maxson had gone crazy, and I knew it. He’d ordered the slaughter of the Railroad, though I’d begged him to let me at least try to talk them into leaving the Commonwealth – though Desdemona could be fanatic, they were innocent. He’d wanted to kill everyone and everything in the Institute, but there were children in there, women and innocent children, and men who were only doing what they thought was right.
He’d wanted me to kill Danse, who stood before me with contempt on his face and fury in his heart. All that I could do was step forward, bringing my hand up to touch his shoulder.
“Danse, please, I-” He was all that I had left. We’d confessed our love to one another, we’d slept together, and he’d healed the wound in my heart… the gaping hole that I’d thought would never close.
He jerked away from my touch before my digits landed, and the scathing response that he gave me tore that hole wide open again. “Don’t touch me, Quinn. Don’t come near me. I don’t want to look at you.” And then softer, but with a steely reserve, “You killed women and children, you killed my brothers and sisters. I can’t forgive you – I won’t.” Brown eyes flickered up, and his next words punctured through me like a knife lancing through my heart. “I don’t want to see you again. Get out of here, now.” His hand came to his laser rifle, to Righteous Authority that I’d given back to him, “And when you come back, I can promise you that I won’t be here. I want nothing to do with this damned place anymore.”
“Danse,” my voice was soft, so full of aching sorrow that I could hardly get out the words. “Do you hate me?”
“No, Quinn… I love you – I’ll always love you…” He turned on me then, and his next words cut me like a knife, “But I can’t stand the sight of you.” All of the Stimpaks in the world couldn’t heal the sensation that was ripping through my chest – it couldn’t heal the hurt in my heart and the hole that his sudden contempt of me had left behind.
I’d set the Prydwen to flames, because I could see the way that Maxson was allowing the power to go to his head. War never changed. There were casualties that didn’t deserve to die… but I’d made the decision that I thought would be the best for everyone; Preston had agreed with me. Preston, who didn’t want to hurt anyone, had agreed with me.
But Danse didn’t… and I’d lost him.
It felt like I’d lost myself all over again. I hurt worse than I did when I’d first woken up, when I’d first realized that everything in the world that I’d known and loved had been ripped away from me. It hurt worse, because it was opening both wounds – the wound that my past had left behind, and the wound that Danse had filled. All of the pain and agony that I’d felt since my childhood suddenly rushed to the surface, and a gasping sound punched out of my chest. A near sob, dry in the eyes, but so painful that my throat ached with it. My knees shook, and I fell to the ground with mud spattering up and against my legs.
Danse paused, for just a moment. Hesitation shook his shoulders, and my green eyes stared up at him as the last chance of redemption that I had.
The paused lasted for a beat – drops of rain on my face that were the tears I couldn’t spill – and then he kept walking.
I watched him disappear into the darkness, and with him, I watched the last vestiges of my self preservation disappear from the Commonwealth.
This is turning into a Fallout 4 fanfic by accident. But I wrote this a little earlier today, and I haven’t even taken the time to go over it. I decided that I needed a version of my story where my character is going to go through some very negative emotions, and thus this happened. I hope that you enjoy, and I hope that me posting my writing without even looking to edit gives you the bravery to do the same. Write! Post! Share. We are all going to make mistakes, and we have to realize that writing is a learning process; the minute that we close ourselves to learning new things is the moment that we stop improving! Strive forward! Write on, my readers! Write on!
Until next time,
Author Amanda McCormick