A Clean Slate?

My indever is should I begin posting parts of my new story or finish/end the old? In my next blog I will post a portion of my lastest work so that the "others" who read this blog will comment on this matter.

To My Faithful Readers... or Reader

Well, here it is! A Blog! I'm doing this because I need to. Although nobody really cares for any of my blogs except my rant on Catholicism, I feel the need to post the only peice that was granted a "well done" by an anonomous judge:

Clash,
The swords hit each other,
Both combatants are locked in battle,
Sealing each others fate,
But the only hope each other has,
Is if the other breaks the others will,
To live…

Not your cup of tea?
Fine, sip this one:

She was older than I was,
Far older,
I was helping the medics get her off the floor,
But her body wasn‘t letting us,
It was like she was still alive,
Her limbs twitching rhythmically,
And that is what scared me the most…

Not that one either?
Ok, try this one:

I cried,
Harder than I had in years,
Now that I think of it,
It was the first time in years.
The pain was tearing at me,
Like waves on the beach,
Repetitive, yet uncontrollable,
I see no end to it.

Get it yet?

Dark Beginnings

The storm raged onward, wind ripping at the sea. Trees were grasping the earth, their roots tearing from them. Waves raced for the high rocks in an attempt to eradicated their existence, bouncing hopelessly off the pitch black pinnacles. The boats had long vanished under the unmerciful waters. Lightning arced across the deep void of night as the rain relinquished its anger upon the world. The last surviving dock was all that was left, barely seen above the dark waters and at the edge was a man. His dark cloak was cast over his head veiling his eyes. The wind rushed past as if enraged by this lone soldier in the heat of battle. Carried by the force was the soft mutter of words, hidden by the elements. The incantation flowed through the air, evading the harsh clash of thunder and the war of the rain. Ominously, the waters retreated from the shoreline, in a hasty retreat. The man lifted his head to catch the glimpse of a moving fortress of water rising from the dark depths. Lightning danced with joy and thunder bellowed as the dark sea covered the sky. There was a giant roar was the sheet of water rose above the land, claming its host. The man smiled softly, and the incantation ended. There was a brief moment of calm as the rain was blocked by the curving mass. Where the world was slowed down, revealing the innocent, childish boy behind the veil of death he wore upon his face. Then there was an abrupt flash of lightning that blinded the world as a defining bang sounded across the waters, the rocks, and the trees. All was sightless as the breath of the wind was held…
***
“Crap…”, she said under her breath again, for the forth time.
“Crap… Crap… Why do you waste my time with this bull Grey?”
“But I…”
“No ‘buts’ Grey.” the Professor said, her wire frame glasses tucked neatly just below her eyes, which were currently glaring at their prey, “This is what you wanted me to read? Are you kidding? This is child’s play! A waste of good paper! If I wanted to read this I could have just read the back of my son’s cereal box this morning.”
“But Professor… just give me another chance…” moaned Grey, knowing all to well that he was fighting a lost cause.
“No Grey, give me a break… this was your last chance. What do you want me to do?! This is not what I am looking for! You need to get out of that fantasy world you live in and meet reality.”
“Me and reality don’t really get along…” muttered Grey under his breath looking at the ground.
“I heard that,” said the Professor, “Now here’s what I can do for you, and remember, if you screw up one more time your grade will suffer the consequence… I have a meeting in twenty minutes. If you can pull of a half decent piece,” she waved the papers in her hand, the bright red paint on her nails glinting, “and not this bull shit by five o’clock this evening I’ll consider…”
“Thank you Professor!” started Grey, “I can’t thank you…”
“Yea yea, shut it. I hate people who worship me. Now get outta here. You have a lot of work to do in six hours. I will expect the draft promptly at five. No ‘ifs‘, ‘ands‘, or ‘buts’!”
And with that she crumpled up the papers in her hand, tossed them into the nearest trash bin, and strode swiftly away with her aligator skin boots clicking on the paved sidewalk. After Grey had seen her vanish around the corner, he quickly retrieved his work and walked away in the opposite direction looking thoroughly disappointed. As he reached his bicycle, he shook his head, mounted his bike, and raced away, stuffing the crumpled papers in his messanger bag as he went.
***