Post by kittyotix on Jun 12, 2011 13:48:25 GMT -5
Hi All,
Please read my main character's story
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A child’s chuckling could be heard from the bedroom of a small cottage in a village in Surrey, UK. The giggling increased until it was full on raucous laughter. If you were standing outside of her door, you would have notice flashes of pink and purple lights flashing from under the gap between the door and the bare wooden floors. Clump, clump, clump, the sound of heavy feet climbing the stairs, and as suddenly as the laughing and lights started, they ceased.
‘Emily, come out of your room and come down stairs now. We have prayers before dinner!’, came a booming authoritarian voice.
‘Yes, father’ squeaked a barely audible voice. The door to the bedroom opened and a tiny, plain looking girl emerged, aged fourteen, and dressed in old fashioned clothes with large, frumpy glasses.
Slowly she descended the stairs, one by one and she entered the lounge area. Kneeling in front of the large cross that held centre stage in the sparse room, she mumbled the ‘Lord’s Prayer’. ‘Don’t mumble girl! ’, shouted a thin, pinch faced woman, ‘Take praise in our Lord!’
‘Yes, mother, sorry mother’, whispered the girl, showing obvious signs of fear. She repeated the prayer, louder this time but with the breaking voice of someone who wanted to cry.
After the Lord’s Prayer was said by the girl, her mother and her father, the family sat down for dinner. As she was very hungry and young, Emily made the mistake of picking up her knife and fork before her father had chance to say Grace. This resulted in a sharp smack to her cheek and angry rants from both parents.
‘Don’t cry, you stupid girl! God does not like cry babies!’ scolded her mother.
Holding back the tears, Emily simply nodded, and hang her head.
Grace was said and they ate their meals in silence.
‘Go back to your room!’ were the only words said after dinner. Emily obliged, and ran up to her room as fast as she could. She sat on her bed, and burst into tears. She thought about God, and how could he be so good if he let her be so unhappy. Looking out of the window of her room she saw people her age out in the sun, and wondering why she had no friends and why her parents would not let her attend school. She turned, buried her head in her pillow and cried till no more tears would come.
Lifting her head, a slight smile appeared on her face. Sitting up and raising her hands in front of her she thought about her ‘special friends’, and immediately the dim room lit up with pink and purple ‘sprites’. Giggling, Emily made them dance in her room until she fell asleep.
Waking up early, Emily summoned her sprites again, not knowing that her mother was just outside her bedroom door. The giggles and flashes of light alerted he mother and she quietly opened the door, only to see her daughter, floating and spinning in the air, lit up by lights that seemed to dance around her, and Emily was so blissfully happy.
‘Whore!’ screamed her mum, ‘Devil’s Whore!’ Shocked, Emily fell to the floor. Taking her slipper off her foot, mother hit Emily hard, again and again. She hit her so hard that Emily did not even cry, she just sat there, like a living target. Father came into the room. ‘What’s going on!’ he shouted. Emily remained silent, too shocked to speak or move. Her mother explained what she had seen and father immediately grabbed Emily’s arm and dragged her to the lounge. Emily started to struggle and scream, but she was totally overwhelmed by her parents.
‘We always said you was evil, we always said was with Satan!’, screamed her mother.
Father forced Emily onto the chair where he bound her hands and feet to the chair frame.
Whack, whack, whack, whack when his fist into his own daughters face. ‘Satan wont protect you now. Not while you are in the presence of our Lord!’ whispered father again and again into Emily’s ear in between punches. He beat her unconscious.
During the ordeal that went on all day, drifting in and out of consciousness, Emily could hear her parents prayers, and their insistence that she was part of the coming of the Devil, the End Times and the Rapture. She could feel pain on her arms and legs. She was not aware what this pain was until the following morning.
Waking, she realised that she was no longer tied to the chair, but was out side the house, in the gravel drive way. Trying to move, she felt the gravel sticking to her body. Looking down she saw burns and cuts on her legs, arms and feet. Her parents had tried to exorcise her with pain and brutality. Strangely she felt liberated, as if the beatings had lifted her. Touching the cuts, she felt a short, sharp moment of happiness and bliss where there should have been pain.
Looking back at the house, anger surged through her like an electrical charge. Enraged, sprites leapt from her fingers, through the windows, and up into her parents bedroom. Dancing around the bed, the sprites glowed and hovered, until they dived down into the heads of her parents. Emily could feel the sprites inside her parent minds, and could use them to control the pleasure and pain receptors in their brains. Striking at will, she overloaded both the pain and pleasure centres. At this moment, both parents woke and screamed. They both felt that their heads we about to explode, crying out in pain and ecstasy at the same time, before collapsing unconscious.
Laughing, Emily rose in the air, hovered for a moment, before soaring off.
Emily spent the next couple of years travelling around the UK, surviving on theft and other crimes. It is here that she learned to fully control her powers. She found out that she is a mutant. She learned that she could manipulate the pain and pleasure centres of anyone’s brain in a variety of interesting ways, including inducing sleep, fear and pain and pleasure to the point of death. It was when she was about sixteen that learned that she can use this ability to make someone believe that they are healed. This belief is so strong, that person will actually heal from minor wounds.
Unfortunately years of abuse had left her with very confused ideas about pain, pleasure, love, friendships and religion. She is socially inept, and often says hurtful things even when she does not mean it. It has also left her with deep physical and emotional scars that will never truly heal. She never exposes her arms, legs and feet in public, feeling ashamed that her mutancy has left her with deformed genes, while her parents have left her with a deformed body. Her insecurities often surface with displays of over compensation or grief. Taking the name Rapture, after what her parents said to her all those years ago, she knows that she is not the most powerful person out there, but she does her best, even though it may not be the right thing to do.
Please read my main character's story
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A child’s chuckling could be heard from the bedroom of a small cottage in a village in Surrey, UK. The giggling increased until it was full on raucous laughter. If you were standing outside of her door, you would have notice flashes of pink and purple lights flashing from under the gap between the door and the bare wooden floors. Clump, clump, clump, the sound of heavy feet climbing the stairs, and as suddenly as the laughing and lights started, they ceased.
‘Emily, come out of your room and come down stairs now. We have prayers before dinner!’, came a booming authoritarian voice.
‘Yes, father’ squeaked a barely audible voice. The door to the bedroom opened and a tiny, plain looking girl emerged, aged fourteen, and dressed in old fashioned clothes with large, frumpy glasses.
Slowly she descended the stairs, one by one and she entered the lounge area. Kneeling in front of the large cross that held centre stage in the sparse room, she mumbled the ‘Lord’s Prayer’. ‘Don’t mumble girl! ’, shouted a thin, pinch faced woman, ‘Take praise in our Lord!’
‘Yes, mother, sorry mother’, whispered the girl, showing obvious signs of fear. She repeated the prayer, louder this time but with the breaking voice of someone who wanted to cry.
After the Lord’s Prayer was said by the girl, her mother and her father, the family sat down for dinner. As she was very hungry and young, Emily made the mistake of picking up her knife and fork before her father had chance to say Grace. This resulted in a sharp smack to her cheek and angry rants from both parents.
‘Don’t cry, you stupid girl! God does not like cry babies!’ scolded her mother.
Holding back the tears, Emily simply nodded, and hang her head.
Grace was said and they ate their meals in silence.
‘Go back to your room!’ were the only words said after dinner. Emily obliged, and ran up to her room as fast as she could. She sat on her bed, and burst into tears. She thought about God, and how could he be so good if he let her be so unhappy. Looking out of the window of her room she saw people her age out in the sun, and wondering why she had no friends and why her parents would not let her attend school. She turned, buried her head in her pillow and cried till no more tears would come.
Lifting her head, a slight smile appeared on her face. Sitting up and raising her hands in front of her she thought about her ‘special friends’, and immediately the dim room lit up with pink and purple ‘sprites’. Giggling, Emily made them dance in her room until she fell asleep.
Waking up early, Emily summoned her sprites again, not knowing that her mother was just outside her bedroom door. The giggles and flashes of light alerted he mother and she quietly opened the door, only to see her daughter, floating and spinning in the air, lit up by lights that seemed to dance around her, and Emily was so blissfully happy.
‘Whore!’ screamed her mum, ‘Devil’s Whore!’ Shocked, Emily fell to the floor. Taking her slipper off her foot, mother hit Emily hard, again and again. She hit her so hard that Emily did not even cry, she just sat there, like a living target. Father came into the room. ‘What’s going on!’ he shouted. Emily remained silent, too shocked to speak or move. Her mother explained what she had seen and father immediately grabbed Emily’s arm and dragged her to the lounge. Emily started to struggle and scream, but she was totally overwhelmed by her parents.
‘We always said you was evil, we always said was with Satan!’, screamed her mother.
Father forced Emily onto the chair where he bound her hands and feet to the chair frame.
Whack, whack, whack, whack when his fist into his own daughters face. ‘Satan wont protect you now. Not while you are in the presence of our Lord!’ whispered father again and again into Emily’s ear in between punches. He beat her unconscious.
During the ordeal that went on all day, drifting in and out of consciousness, Emily could hear her parents prayers, and their insistence that she was part of the coming of the Devil, the End Times and the Rapture. She could feel pain on her arms and legs. She was not aware what this pain was until the following morning.
Waking, she realised that she was no longer tied to the chair, but was out side the house, in the gravel drive way. Trying to move, she felt the gravel sticking to her body. Looking down she saw burns and cuts on her legs, arms and feet. Her parents had tried to exorcise her with pain and brutality. Strangely she felt liberated, as if the beatings had lifted her. Touching the cuts, she felt a short, sharp moment of happiness and bliss where there should have been pain.
Looking back at the house, anger surged through her like an electrical charge. Enraged, sprites leapt from her fingers, through the windows, and up into her parents bedroom. Dancing around the bed, the sprites glowed and hovered, until they dived down into the heads of her parents. Emily could feel the sprites inside her parent minds, and could use them to control the pleasure and pain receptors in their brains. Striking at will, she overloaded both the pain and pleasure centres. At this moment, both parents woke and screamed. They both felt that their heads we about to explode, crying out in pain and ecstasy at the same time, before collapsing unconscious.
Laughing, Emily rose in the air, hovered for a moment, before soaring off.
Emily spent the next couple of years travelling around the UK, surviving on theft and other crimes. It is here that she learned to fully control her powers. She found out that she is a mutant. She learned that she could manipulate the pain and pleasure centres of anyone’s brain in a variety of interesting ways, including inducing sleep, fear and pain and pleasure to the point of death. It was when she was about sixteen that learned that she can use this ability to make someone believe that they are healed. This belief is so strong, that person will actually heal from minor wounds.
Unfortunately years of abuse had left her with very confused ideas about pain, pleasure, love, friendships and religion. She is socially inept, and often says hurtful things even when she does not mean it. It has also left her with deep physical and emotional scars that will never truly heal. She never exposes her arms, legs and feet in public, feeling ashamed that her mutancy has left her with deformed genes, while her parents have left her with a deformed body. Her insecurities often surface with displays of over compensation or grief. Taking the name Rapture, after what her parents said to her all those years ago, she knows that she is not the most powerful person out there, but she does her best, even though it may not be the right thing to do.