The Neverending Writings of Nathaniel Smith

Well, I asked Ashley (thevinckanator) for a few words for a writing prompt, so to say.

These words are: Compulsive, clouds, inhale, fade, cold.

Welp, here’s what I did with those words. The story honestly was just like, “BAM HERE WE GO,” as soon as I had received the text.
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                The man picked at his skin, his dulled nails dragging over the small bumps and scars he had garnered over the years. His eyes are unfocused as he looks to the sky, the glossy reflection of dark storm clouds on the whites surrounding the iris. The black vortexes in the middle of his iris’ rapidly narrow as the sun breaks through the slight opening in the spirals of the storm. He hisses, eyes squinting as he raises his hand to his mouth, inhaling the acrid taste of cigarette smoke. He cares not that he’ll die from these eventually. He lives in the moment, watching the black mass above him twisting and turning, almost like the waves that would be crashing around the boat if he was out on the sea at this moment. His hand lowers, slowly returning to the position he had it before, resting on his stomach. His other hand moves to resume the digging at the upraised portions of his skin. His eyes dim as he loses himself in the turmoil unraveling above him, thinking back to a day when he didn’t have to worry about his compulsive habits. Now, they’re all he has left and he takes another drag from his cigarette. This time, however, as the cigarette filter leaves his mouth, a raindrop hits his eyelid, almost nailing his eye directly. He sighs, sitting up on the hill where he had taken refuge from the constant fighting and bickering he had come to learn would never stop, even if his parents didn’t live together anymore. He quickly shakes his head, not wanting to have the conversation he’s sure his mom will bring up when he arrives home. And drop splatters on his shoulder as he puts his arms down to push himself up to stand. He walks towards the black Honda he had gotten a couple months ago as a graduation gift.

                As he nears the Honda, he spots a piece of paper flapping in the wind between his wiper blade and windshield. Damn, a fucking ticket? Not what I needed today he thinks as he walks up and pulls the paper from its resting spot. He eyes quickly scan over the white cardstock in his hand, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and disbelief as he reads what was written on it. “Be here at noon tomorrow Lex, and you will see what you were put on this planet to do,” It reads before the water from the rain wash the ink away. Lex shakes his head, disregarding the message as he unlocks his car and sits down, setting his stereo to his favorite song at the moment, I Be On That by Childish Gambino. His car shakes as he turns the music up, trying to drown the sounds of the outside world trying to burst in. His body lets off a shudder before his head is buried in his hands, tears falling down his face as the realization that he was truly alone hit him full force. The feeling hits his ice cold heart, frozen solid from the years of abuse his mother and him had endured from the man that is no longer his father. He feels slightly better at the fact that he no longer has to worry about the man’s bullshit.

                As he thinks of the fact that he doesn’t have to return to a broken home, a smile replaces the frown that was previously occupying his face. The tears stop leaking, his heart realizing he and his mother no longer have to go through the pain anymore. He realizes he has his mother to help him through these times, just as she has him.

→

Song.

2011-07-17

Them.

The demons fight, struggling against the chains placed over them. They whisper and try their hardest to convince you to let them out. They hide in nooks and corners, seeking a place where they won’t be found when their bonds try to take them again. It’s a game for them, really. They talk their way out of your head, and then hide everywhere, waiting for you to find them. Hide and seek, so it seems. However, as you free your mind and let more come out each passing tide, less come back, until your world is plagued with these demons, these little pieces of paranoia floating in the wind that know you no longer have the strength to place their bonds over them again.

→

W.I.P.

They lurk on the edges between reality and dreams, the border between this dimension and the one where they’ve become trapped. They escape constantly, only to be reeled back in as soon as the passage they used to come through closes.

2011-06-10

Super 8 was phenominal.

Lived up to all my expectations. Exceeded them, actually. It was a damn good film, and it made me love J.J. Abrams even more. To quote one of my friends, “It made me want to be a kid again.”

J.J. Abrams may seem to overuse the lens flare in his shots, but I honestly believe that added something to the film. I won’t reveal any major spoilers, but the way the monster looked? Almost humanoid, but at the same time, completely alien.

The whole movie had a wide spectrum of feeling to it, and a lot of different aspects of other supernatural films mixed in to it. It definitely had that Cloverfield “Oh lets not reveal the monster for a good portion of the film” feel, but at the same time, I loved how they incorporated the whole “Army covering everything up.”

Overall, I would definitely give it a 5/5. I loved this movie, and I will definitely go to see it again.

2011-05-31

Mmmm, The Cell Block Tango.

Fuck yes.

2011-05-16

Northern Wind - City and Colour

You’re the Northern Wind, sendin’ shivers down my spine,
You’re like falling leaves in an Autumn night.

You’re the lullaby, that’s singing me to sleep.
You are the other half, you’re like a missing piece.

Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love.
You don’t know what you do to me.

(Oh me)

You are all four seasons, rolled into one.
You’re like the cold December snow in the warm July sun.

And I’m the jet-black sky that’s just before the rain.
Like the mighty current pulling you under the waves.

Oh my love, Oh my love, Oh my love.
You don’t know what you do to me.

(Oh me)

I’m the darkest hour, just before the dawn.
And I’m slowly sinking into the slight of despond.

Like an old guitar, worn out and left behind.
I have stories left to tell that are of the healin’ kind.

Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love.
If I could just find you tonight.
If I could just find you tonight.
Oh my love.

2011-05-13

Make it Stop (September’s Children)

Bang bang go the coffin nails, like a breath exhaled, been gone forever.
It seems like just yesterday, how did I miss the red flags raise?
Think back, the days we laughed, we braved these bitter storms together.
But brought to his knees he cried, but on his feet he died.

What god would damn a heart?
What god drove us apart?
What god could…

Make it stop, let this end, 18 years pushed to the ledge.
It’s come to this, a weightless step, on the way down singing…

Woah, Woah

Bang bang from the closet walls, the schoolhouse halls, the shotgun’s loaded.
Push me and I’ll push back. I’m done asking, I demand.
From a nation under god, I feel its love like a cattle prod.

(Born free)
I’m born free, but still they hate.
(Born me)
I’m born me, no I can’t change.

It’s always darkest just before the dawn, so stay awake with me, let’s prove them wrong.

Make it stop, let this end, 18 years pushed to the ledge.
It’s come to this, a weightless step, on the way down singing…

Woah, Woah

The cold river washed him away, but how could we forget?
The gatherings hold candles, but not their tongues.

And too much blood has flown from the wrists, of the children shamed for those they chose to kiss.
Who will rise to stop the blood?
We’re coming for, insisting on, a different beat, yeah, a brand new song.

Tyler Clementi – Age 18
Billy Lucas – Age 15
Harrison Chase Brown – Age 15
Cody J. Parker – Age 17
Seth Walsh – Age 13

Make it stop, let this end, this life chose me, I’m not lost in sin.
And proud I’ll stand, of who I am, I plan to go on living.
Make it stop, let this end, all these years pushed to the ledge.
And proud I’ll stand, of who I am, I plan to go on living.

→

Drowning in a bucket of hysteria.

Time continues flowing, no matter what we do to stop it.

What I’m most afraid of is the concept of death. We all die at one point or another, yet what happens after that? Do we wake up in a different body? Do we go to the mystical “afterlife?” No one knows, and this is what troubles me the most. The ever-closer creeping thought that it might just be a pure and destroying darkness.