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I've just been sorting through my wardrobe, and I've come across my Year 11 English book, and a couple of shrt stories of which I am particularly proud so, being the good man I am, I thought I'd try and copy a few up and get your reactions for them, so expect a few more in coming weeks.
I would've entered this into the SSC, but it has so little relevance that I thought it would be better to just let you read it as a normal story, rather than as part of the competition.
This is based on Miss Havisham, a character from Great Expectations. Havisham is a bitter old woman who was jilted at the alter, and has vowed to take her revenge on the male gender ever since. Our teacher told us that we had to write a peice from her point of view and so, rather than conforming, I decided that changing it would be a better option, and easy to do, so I made her a younger, moderner male version of the character.
Please, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated, greatly.
Matt
_________
"I don't believe in a love anymore, it's all inside"
Biffy Clyro - 57
And I don't. Love is a lie dreamt up by card corporations, made to eat away at every last five pound note in your wallet. Love isn't real. It isn't. Love is like alcohol - it takes your money, hazes your judgement and leaves you regretting it all the morning after.
"Love is only a feeling"
The Darkness - Love is only a feeling
Love isn't a feeling. It's another word for hurt. Love is pain. Love is deceit. Love is sorrow. Love is laying on your bed, weeping on a Saturday afternoon because you're too weak to move and everything you see screams 'IT'S OVER'. I saw her with the housekeeper. On our bed. OUR BED. The bed we picked and bought together. Nights of passion tainted by her and that dirty Spanish ho.
"I held her tight
Close to my heart
I didn't know it would break
I didn't know it would break"
Biffy Clyro - 57
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe there is such a thing as giving somebody too much love? Standing outside her window, reading her sonnets I'd written in the pouring rain would be too much for most women to take. Too many romantic gestures, too many love letters from the heart. Much too much. Ironic isn't it? Since school she'd moaned about 'retarded men' and their fears of commitment, and when she finally gets a man who's ready to commit his all, his everything to her, she does running away with her lover, leaving nothing but the shards of my broken heart in her wake.
"Don't leave me high, Don't leave me dry"
Radiohead - High and Dry
But she doesn't listen to Radiohead. She hadn't heard Thom Yorkes words. She left me high. She left me dry. High and dry with a booked band, a reserved church and a diamond ring. What a nice way to tell someone that you're leaving them, eh? At least she cared enough to tell me the marriage was over 2 hours before we were due at the church. In my heart, I knew it was over months before, when I kept seeing her and that dirty, dirty Spaniard deep in conversation, and caught them glancing at each other from across the room. Still, I kept hope. I kept telling myself she really DID love me, and that I was making it all up. That the lesbian sex was just a one off, you know. An experience, to test the waters. But it wasn't. Her voice from Heathrow over the phone told me that. The walls, the carpet, the scents of her house told me so. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt, kill, impale her on anything I could. My phone beeped. 'Battery Empty'. If you looked hard enough, you could probably still see piece of it on the road even today.
"We always said it's forever in this beautiful life"
Biffy Clyro - 57
She told me that she'd love me forever. That our love would be everlasting. Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can still hear her laugh, feel her in my arm. Feel her love. It eases the pain. Slightly. Every day is a battle between my need for revenge, the hatred that boils within me, and the part of me that still longs for the days of our relationship. Every time I think I've got closure, I think of her running on the beaches with her lover, on a foreign tropical island, and it reminds me that I'm single, alone, a batchelor. BATCHELOR.
"I focus on the pain, the only thing I know"
Nine Inch Nails - Hurt
And it's been nothing but pain since she left me. The hatred has festered inside of me. Every day, every thought, every breath, kills another part of me, and I'm broken beyond repair. I'm not alive anymore. Alive means I'm active, alert. I'm just a corpse. Sub-human. Alone.
"It likes to hear you scream fire and damnation, lamentation"
Babyshambles - I love you (but you're green)
I would've entered this into the SSC, but it has so little relevance that I thought it would be better to just let you read it as a normal story, rather than as part of the competition.
This is based on Miss Havisham, a character from Great Expectations. Havisham is a bitter old woman who was jilted at the alter, and has vowed to take her revenge on the male gender ever since. Our teacher told us that we had to write a peice from her point of view and so, rather than conforming, I decided that changing it would be a better option, and easy to do, so I made her a younger, moderner male version of the character.
Please, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated, greatly.
Matt
_________
"I don't believe in a love anymore, it's all inside"
Biffy Clyro - 57
And I don't. Love is a lie dreamt up by card corporations, made to eat away at every last five pound note in your wallet. Love isn't real. It isn't. Love is like alcohol - it takes your money, hazes your judgement and leaves you regretting it all the morning after.
"Love is only a feeling"
The Darkness - Love is only a feeling
Love isn't a feeling. It's another word for hurt. Love is pain. Love is deceit. Love is sorrow. Love is laying on your bed, weeping on a Saturday afternoon because you're too weak to move and everything you see screams 'IT'S OVER'. I saw her with the housekeeper. On our bed. OUR BED. The bed we picked and bought together. Nights of passion tainted by her and that dirty Spanish ho.
"I held her tight
Close to my heart
I didn't know it would break
I didn't know it would break"
Biffy Clyro - 57
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe there is such a thing as giving somebody too much love? Standing outside her window, reading her sonnets I'd written in the pouring rain would be too much for most women to take. Too many romantic gestures, too many love letters from the heart. Much too much. Ironic isn't it? Since school she'd moaned about 'retarded men' and their fears of commitment, and when she finally gets a man who's ready to commit his all, his everything to her, she does running away with her lover, leaving nothing but the shards of my broken heart in her wake.
"Don't leave me high, Don't leave me dry"
Radiohead - High and Dry
But she doesn't listen to Radiohead. She hadn't heard Thom Yorkes words. She left me high. She left me dry. High and dry with a booked band, a reserved church and a diamond ring. What a nice way to tell someone that you're leaving them, eh? At least she cared enough to tell me the marriage was over 2 hours before we were due at the church. In my heart, I knew it was over months before, when I kept seeing her and that dirty, dirty Spaniard deep in conversation, and caught them glancing at each other from across the room. Still, I kept hope. I kept telling myself she really DID love me, and that I was making it all up. That the lesbian sex was just a one off, you know. An experience, to test the waters. But it wasn't. Her voice from Heathrow over the phone told me that. The walls, the carpet, the scents of her house told me so. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt, kill, impale her on anything I could. My phone beeped. 'Battery Empty'. If you looked hard enough, you could probably still see piece of it on the road even today.
"We always said it's forever in this beautiful life"
Biffy Clyro - 57
She told me that she'd love me forever. That our love would be everlasting. Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can still hear her laugh, feel her in my arm. Feel her love. It eases the pain. Slightly. Every day is a battle between my need for revenge, the hatred that boils within me, and the part of me that still longs for the days of our relationship. Every time I think I've got closure, I think of her running on the beaches with her lover, on a foreign tropical island, and it reminds me that I'm single, alone, a batchelor. BATCHELOR.
"I focus on the pain, the only thing I know"
Nine Inch Nails - Hurt
And it's been nothing but pain since she left me. The hatred has festered inside of me. Every day, every thought, every breath, kills another part of me, and I'm broken beyond repair. I'm not alive anymore. Alive means I'm active, alert. I'm just a corpse. Sub-human. Alone.
"It likes to hear you scream fire and damnation, lamentation"
Babyshambles - I love you (but you're green)
Expect some more Matteh GCSE stuff in a couple of days, and stuff.
Ashman wrote:
> mattributé wrote:
> For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a
> Hitman,
> for instance.
>
> That's weird. I was going to write about a Hitman-like person too.
*dies*
Now that's just weird, me too.
Well - 2 of them, with Russian names, in an old room, with lots of guns in breifcases.
That's as far as the idea went before I thought of something good.
Anywho - good stuff, per usuál Meateh. Nice style - use of quotes and shiz, then the comment. *Thumbs ..... up*
> mattributé wrote:
> For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a
> Hitman,
> for instance.
>
> That's weird. I was going to write about a Hitman-like person too.
*dies*
Now that's just weird, me too.
Well - 2 of them, with Russian names, in an old room, with lots of guns in breifcases.
That's as far as the idea went before I thought of something good.
Anywho - good stuff, per usuál Meateh. Nice style - use of quotes and shiz, then the comment. *Thumbs ..... up*
It's deteriorated now, mi amigo, so don't let me limit you.
I'll have to brainstorm greatly, however.
I'll have to brainstorm greatly, however.
mattributé wrote:
> For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a Hitman,
> for instance.
That's weird. I was going to write about a Hitman-like person too.
> For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a Hitman,
> for instance.
That's weird. I was going to write about a Hitman-like person too.
Ashman wrote:
> Oh, and that is why suspected that you didn't include common Miss
> Havisham traits, as I realise you often draw on your own experiences.
> Its a good thing to do.
It may be a good thing to do, but it limits me greatly in what I can freely write about. For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a Hitman, for instance. It all starts well, but then, 3 paragraphs in, I get intensely bored, and start to tire of it. I am really going to try and write in a different style for SSC7, and, if I fail, I probably won't enter.
> Oh, and that is why suspected that you didn't include common Miss
> Havisham traits, as I realise you often draw on your own experiences.
> Its a good thing to do.
It may be a good thing to do, but it limits me greatly in what I can freely write about. For SSC7, I've tried multiple different stories - one about a Hitman, for instance. It all starts well, but then, 3 paragraphs in, I get intensely bored, and start to tire of it. I am really going to try and write in a different style for SSC7, and, if I fail, I probably won't enter.
I understand greatly about you only being able to write well about love when it comes to stories. Just go read my latest entries, they are absolutely ridden with emotions and feelings rather than actions.
Oh, and that is why suspected that you didn't include common Miss Havisham traits, as I realise you often draw on your own experiences. Its a good thing to do.
Again, well done, an enjoyable read.
Oh, and that is why suspected that you didn't include common Miss Havisham traits, as I realise you often draw on your own experiences. Its a good thing to do.
Again, well done, an enjoyable read.
Ashman wrote:
> Unless I am wrong, Miss Havisham also kept lots of clocks that were
> all stopped at one particular time, to indicate the time her lover
> broke it off. She also hosted one or two other familiar traits if I
> remember, so I thought perhaps they could have been implicated into
> your piece, considering that was generally what it was going to be
> about.
Yeah, she tried to keep everything te same as what it was when she found out that it was over, and sat in the same chair for god knows how many years, never leaving it.
I tried to mirror it in the work to start with, but then it felt like I was simply regurgitating work, and that it wasn't actually my own. The only way Havisham and Miss Havisham are linked are via the severe heartbreak they've both been through, which is link enough for me.
And, if you read my SSC6 entry, you'll know that a lot of my work is based on love. Call me a one trick pony, but I can never get into anything else I begin to write.
> Unless I am wrong, Miss Havisham also kept lots of clocks that were
> all stopped at one particular time, to indicate the time her lover
> broke it off. She also hosted one or two other familiar traits if I
> remember, so I thought perhaps they could have been implicated into
> your piece, considering that was generally what it was going to be
> about.
Yeah, she tried to keep everything te same as what it was when she found out that it was over, and sat in the same chair for god knows how many years, never leaving it.
I tried to mirror it in the work to start with, but then it felt like I was simply regurgitating work, and that it wasn't actually my own. The only way Havisham and Miss Havisham are linked are via the severe heartbreak they've both been through, which is link enough for me.
And, if you read my SSC6 entry, you'll know that a lot of my work is based on love. Call me a one trick pony, but I can never get into anything else I begin to write.
Deep stuff, Matteh.
I have read Great Expectations, and whilst I thoroughly enjoyed some of the great describing words and phrases conjured in that piece, it also left me wondering.
Unless I am wrong, Miss Havisham also kept lots of clocks that were all stopped at one particular time, to indicate the time her lover broke it off. She also hosted one or two other familiar traits if I remember, so I thought perhaps they could have been implicated into your piece, considering that was generally what it was going to be about.
Nevertheless, I enjoy your style of writing, and flows very nicely for me, as I write similarly.
I have read Great Expectations, and whilst I thoroughly enjoyed some of the great describing words and phrases conjured in that piece, it also left me wondering.
Unless I am wrong, Miss Havisham also kept lots of clocks that were all stopped at one particular time, to indicate the time her lover broke it off. She also hosted one or two other familiar traits if I remember, so I thought perhaps they could have been implicated into your piece, considering that was generally what it was going to be about.
Nevertheless, I enjoy your style of writing, and flows very nicely for me, as I write similarly.
I've just been sorting through my wardrobe, and I've come across my Year 11 English book, and a couple of shrt stories of which I am particularly proud so, being the good man I am, I thought I'd try and copy a few up and get your reactions for them, so expect a few more in coming weeks.
I would've entered this into the SSC, but it has so little relevance that I thought it would be better to just let you read it as a normal story, rather than as part of the competition.
This is based on Miss Havisham, a character from Great Expectations. Havisham is a bitter old woman who was jilted at the alter, and has vowed to take her revenge on the male gender ever since. Our teacher told us that we had to write a peice from her point of view and so, rather than conforming, I decided that changing it would be a better option, and easy to do, so I made her a younger, moderner male version of the character.
Please, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated, greatly.
Matt
_________
"I don't believe in a love anymore, it's all inside"
Biffy Clyro - 57
And I don't. Love is a lie dreamt up by card corporations, made to eat away at every last five pound note in your wallet. Love isn't real. It isn't. Love is like alcohol - it takes your money, hazes your judgement and leaves you regretting it all the morning after.
"Love is only a feeling"
The Darkness - Love is only a feeling
Love isn't a feeling. It's another word for hurt. Love is pain. Love is deceit. Love is sorrow. Love is laying on your bed, weeping on a Saturday afternoon because you're too weak to move and everything you see screams 'IT'S OVER'. I saw her with the housekeeper. On our bed. OUR BED. The bed we picked and bought together. Nights of passion tainted by her and that dirty Spanish ho.
"I held her tight
Close to my heart
I didn't know it would break
I didn't know it would break"
Biffy Clyro - 57
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe there is such a thing as giving somebody too much love? Standing outside her window, reading her sonnets I'd written in the pouring rain would be too much for most women to take. Too many romantic gestures, too many love letters from the heart. Much too much. Ironic isn't it? Since school she'd moaned about 'retarded men' and their fears of commitment, and when she finally gets a man who's ready to commit his all, his everything to her, she does running away with her lover, leaving nothing but the shards of my broken heart in her wake.
"Don't leave me high, Don't leave me dry"
Radiohead - High and Dry
But she doesn't listen to Radiohead. She hadn't heard Thom Yorkes words. She left me high. She left me dry. High and dry with a booked band, a reserved church and a diamond ring. What a nice way to tell someone that you're leaving them, eh? At least she cared enough to tell me the marriage was over 2 hours before we were due at the church. In my heart, I knew it was over months before, when I kept seeing her and that dirty, dirty Spaniard deep in conversation, and caught them glancing at each other from across the room. Still, I kept hope. I kept telling myself she really DID love me, and that I was making it all up. That the lesbian sex was just a one off, you know. An experience, to test the waters. But it wasn't. Her voice from Heathrow over the phone told me that. The walls, the carpet, the scents of her house told me so. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt, kill, impale her on anything I could. My phone beeped. 'Battery Empty'. If you looked hard enough, you could probably still see piece of it on the road even today.
"We always said it's forever in this beautiful life"
Biffy Clyro - 57
She told me that she'd love me forever. That our love would be everlasting. Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can still hear her laugh, feel her in my arm. Feel her love. It eases the pain. Slightly. Every day is a battle between my need for revenge, the hatred that boils within me, and the part of me that still longs for the days of our relationship. Every time I think I've got closure, I think of her running on the beaches with her lover, on a foreign tropical island, and it reminds me that I'm single, alone, a batchelor. BATCHELOR.
"I focus on the pain, the only thing I know"
Nine Inch Nails - Hurt
And it's been nothing but pain since she left me. The hatred has festered inside of me. Every day, every thought, every breath, kills another part of me, and I'm broken beyond repair. I'm not alive anymore. Alive means I'm active, alert. I'm just a corpse. Sub-human. Alone.
"It likes to hear you scream fire and damnation, lamentation"
Babyshambles - I love you (but you're green)
I would've entered this into the SSC, but it has so little relevance that I thought it would be better to just let you read it as a normal story, rather than as part of the competition.
This is based on Miss Havisham, a character from Great Expectations. Havisham is a bitter old woman who was jilted at the alter, and has vowed to take her revenge on the male gender ever since. Our teacher told us that we had to write a peice from her point of view and so, rather than conforming, I decided that changing it would be a better option, and easy to do, so I made her a younger, moderner male version of the character.
Please, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated, greatly.
Matt
_________
"I don't believe in a love anymore, it's all inside"
Biffy Clyro - 57
And I don't. Love is a lie dreamt up by card corporations, made to eat away at every last five pound note in your wallet. Love isn't real. It isn't. Love is like alcohol - it takes your money, hazes your judgement and leaves you regretting it all the morning after.
"Love is only a feeling"
The Darkness - Love is only a feeling
Love isn't a feeling. It's another word for hurt. Love is pain. Love is deceit. Love is sorrow. Love is laying on your bed, weeping on a Saturday afternoon because you're too weak to move and everything you see screams 'IT'S OVER'. I saw her with the housekeeper. On our bed. OUR BED. The bed we picked and bought together. Nights of passion tainted by her and that dirty Spanish ho.
"I held her tight
Close to my heart
I didn't know it would break
I didn't know it would break"
Biffy Clyro - 57
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe there is such a thing as giving somebody too much love? Standing outside her window, reading her sonnets I'd written in the pouring rain would be too much for most women to take. Too many romantic gestures, too many love letters from the heart. Much too much. Ironic isn't it? Since school she'd moaned about 'retarded men' and their fears of commitment, and when she finally gets a man who's ready to commit his all, his everything to her, she does running away with her lover, leaving nothing but the shards of my broken heart in her wake.
"Don't leave me high, Don't leave me dry"
Radiohead - High and Dry
But she doesn't listen to Radiohead. She hadn't heard Thom Yorkes words. She left me high. She left me dry. High and dry with a booked band, a reserved church and a diamond ring. What a nice way to tell someone that you're leaving them, eh? At least she cared enough to tell me the marriage was over 2 hours before we were due at the church. In my heart, I knew it was over months before, when I kept seeing her and that dirty, dirty Spaniard deep in conversation, and caught them glancing at each other from across the room. Still, I kept hope. I kept telling myself she really DID love me, and that I was making it all up. That the lesbian sex was just a one off, you know. An experience, to test the waters. But it wasn't. Her voice from Heathrow over the phone told me that. The walls, the carpet, the scents of her house told me so. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt, kill, impale her on anything I could. My phone beeped. 'Battery Empty'. If you looked hard enough, you could probably still see piece of it on the road even today.
"We always said it's forever in this beautiful life"
Biffy Clyro - 57
She told me that she'd love me forever. That our love would be everlasting. Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can still hear her laugh, feel her in my arm. Feel her love. It eases the pain. Slightly. Every day is a battle between my need for revenge, the hatred that boils within me, and the part of me that still longs for the days of our relationship. Every time I think I've got closure, I think of her running on the beaches with her lover, on a foreign tropical island, and it reminds me that I'm single, alone, a batchelor. BATCHELOR.
"I focus on the pain, the only thing I know"
Nine Inch Nails - Hurt
And it's been nothing but pain since she left me. The hatred has festered inside of me. Every day, every thought, every breath, kills another part of me, and I'm broken beyond repair. I'm not alive anymore. Alive means I'm active, alert. I'm just a corpse. Sub-human. Alone.
"It likes to hear you scream fire and damnation, lamentation"
Babyshambles - I love you (but you're green)