Time for an Update

Well, hello all!
It's been awhile again since I've posted, so I've decided to update you all on what I've been working on.  Basically it is a contemporary novel with action and suspense.  Unfortunately, I can't reveal much of the plot on here, but it should be pretty exciting when completed.  I'm currently about three quarters of the way to my original goal, and hoping to exceed it even more.
Anyway, that's about all for now!

Until then I remain,
The Night Writer

A Captured Light

Ever on I walked the gloomy streets of the city at night
Always ready with a staff in hand, ready for a fight
Because the streets are dangerous, especially tonight
As I walked on into the dreaded dark, I clutched my staff, sweating in fright
Every time I walked through this dismal place, something happened to renew my fear
But I have something secret that protects me, something that I hold very dear
Something I know no one else in the world possesses
Something that keeps the dark creatures in their recesses
For this thing around my neck keeps me safe
I hold it close, clutching it in its place
And if a thing should dare to attack me
I simply hold it up, and and reveal for them to see
It knocks them back, sends them retreating into the dark
For what I have is a piece of light, an ever burning spark
My captured light, a piece of day
And I know one thing, it is here to stay

Poems

I've noticed that most of my poems are sad.  I will try to post a more upbeat one next time.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry for the things that I've said

I'm sorry for messing with your head

I'm sorry for being misunderstood

I'm sorry for not saying things I should

I'm sorry for the pain I've caused

I'm sorry for the friends I've lost

But there are times when I too get hurt

But that's no excuse for shoving you in the dirt

I promise I'll try to come right back

And make up for all those things I lack

I know that it's just not okay

I think about it every day

But I'm sorry that my thoughts aren't showing

But trust me they're in my head still growing

I'm sorry for the friend I've been

l won't let it happen again

A Random Story

Slowly, the man crept along the closely lying shadows on the monstrous barge.  Slipping from shadow to shadow, it was apparent that this man didn't want to be seen.  Taking out a compass, he looked at it and watched as the hand went wild, until finally settling in a direction.  A direction that obviously wasn't north.  Something was up here, and the man was determined to find out what.  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.  Taking a silencer from another pocket, he screwed it on.  His first victim was an armed guard who was standing just on the edge of the shadows.  After squeezing the trigger, the man ran up to the guard and caught his body before it fell into the water.  He didn't want a splash to ruin his stealth.  The body was heavy, but the man was strong.  He pulled it into the shadows and left him to be discovered at a more convenient time.  After doing this deed, the man slipped into the light and looked down a long hallway where the guard had been standing.  There was another guard on the other end, guarding a second door.  The man crept quietly up, tiptoeing on the weathered carpet and got closer and closer.  Suddenly, the guard was alerted by a sound.  The man looked down and cursed his luck.  He had stepped on a tender part of the wood, and it had made a creaking sound.  As the guard turned, the man sprinted towards him.  Before the guard could shoot, the man had dived on the ground and shot off a round from his silenced pistol.  The guard fell into the water, making a loud splash sound that broke through the night.  The man froze.  His plan was ruined.  It was over, for now.  At this point, the only thing left to do was try and escape.  The barge was too heavily guarded to infiltrate further.  The man got up and ran for the only place that was left open: the way the guard had fallen in.  He ran and jumped in the freezing cold water, just as bullets hit all around him.  Swimming as fast as he could underwater, he tried to get away...

An Update

Hello Everyone, I'm sorry I haven't posted on here in awhile, I've been working on my two books and haven't really attended to the blog lately.  However, I will say that I have made some more progress on the books and some other short stories, so hopefully I can start posting on here again.

The Windows to the Soul...

Have you ever looked at someone's eyes?  I'm sure you have, but I'm talking about really looking in someone's eyes.  They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I believe this is true sometimes.  Someone's eyes can tell you a lot about what kind of person he or she is.  You can tell a liar by looking in his eyes, as well as a thief.  But eyes are more than just windows; they are stained glass windows.  Works of art.  For if you look into someone's eyes, you will see nebulae and galaxies.  You will see untold beauty and wonders.  A whole world of struggles and triumphs will be seen.  I find that the patterns in people's eyes reflect the beauty of their soul.  Every person is valuable, and if you look into their eyes, you can see why.  Everyone has a different story to tell, for everyone sees the world through a different set of windows...

Don't Drift Away

Don't drift away
Until the faded gray

Come back to me
Come back and be free

You are special everyday
A fact no one can take away

I'm sorry I treated you wrong
No matter what I thought, it wasn't strong

I'm sorry I stooped so low
It's okay, the wounds still show

But look on ahead and don't look back
For the good days will outweigh those that lack...

Painful Memory

I have a painful memory that haunts me when I sleep
The scars keep bleeding again because they're too deep

The days will drive me crazy with doubt
Because this memory burns in and without

I find when I try to fight back
It knocks me down and off track

But I still try and stand up again
It's not stopping me from believing in

That which helps me to stay on my path
It keeps me focused and helps me laugh

Because whatever comes on this road called life
You can get through it, no matter what the strife

Life's full of ups and downs
Just don't let them beat you into the ground

I don't know how else to tell you
But you're still here, that is true

So be grateful for the existence that you be
Life is a blessing that I hope you'll see...

The Night of the Crimson Cloak Continued

Of a man cold with doubt
Whose face was old, and heart was stout

Who faced his fears that dreadful night
And made it through until the light

That was what dawned on that mystery man
Who only told the story because he can

His heart was right, his arm was strong
His cloak was bright, his words were long

A story he told cold and deep
That put the man fast asleep

When he awoke the cloak was gone
Into the shadows that became so long

No one believed the man's new tale
But the man knew it to be true without fail...

The Night of the Crimson Cloak

In the dark, mysterious night
There came a mighty big fright

From a man in a crimson cloak
Whose mighty fears he did evoke?

That of a man lowly but proud
Whose cunning grin his fear did shroud

That was the night of the walking bleak
But of whose deeds did he speak?


Continue in the comments if you wish

...It was a windy day when Eric was called next.  This time, they forced him through some special "training sessions."  He was forced to fire a handgun at a steel target for an hour straight.  The sounds of the gun pounded on his eardrums beneath the earplugs they had given him.

This sort of "training," as well as others, continued throughout the next couple times he was called.  When Eric threatened to go to the police, the New Yorker merely threatened to kill his family.  That stopped Eric, for the meantime.  He hated the times when he was called.  He hated having to lie to his friends as to where he was going.  But above all, he hated that he could do nothing about it.

These instances continued for a month, until he was called one final time...

Insomnia

Insomnia is an interesting thing.  It doesn't come to all of us, but who do "suffer" from it, here's to you.
Although it may be viewed as a curse, the inability to sleep can also be a blessing.  Sometimes ideas will come to me at night.  When I can't sleep, I can only lay awake and think, and think I do.  I think about life, all the words I could have said, all the words I shouldn't have said, all the things I could have done, and all the things I shouldn't have done.
It can be a time for reflection, to make resolutions to be a better person, or even get ideas!

...As they walked down the hallway, many thoughts were going through Eric's mind.  He was trying to figure out who had tipped these people to his location.  Were they watching him?  How else would they know he was meeting Elise at the restaurant?

The jerk on his coat snapped Eric back to the present. The New Yorker clasped a band around Eric's wrist and shoved him toward a door.

"We're here."

Opening the door, he through Eric out in the street.

"Have a nice life.  Until we call you again."

Eric got up slowly in the street.  It was raining.  He had no idea where he was, and now there was a strange bracelet on his wrist.  He looked around, trying to catch his bearings.  He didn't recognize any of the surrounding area.  Just then, he heard a shout from around a corner of the building.  Looking back fearfully, Eric saw that it came from a man in a blazer and cap.  The man shouted again.  He had a gun.

"Hey!  Get outta here!"

The shot from the gun caused Eric to run as fast as he could.  The man was laughing behind him.

....And that is how Eric ended up laying in the street, with blood in his eyes, and clothes soaked with rain.  'Until we call you again...' the New Yorker had said.  Eric wondered when that would be as he slowly got up and continued into the night...

Let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

The Night Writer

...The man paused.

"Well I'm afraid I can't help you with that.  I can, however, show you to your room."

Eric struggled with his bonds, but they wouldn't budge.

"Come on."  The man said.  "Let me show you where you'll be staying."

The man nodded to a shadowy doorway.  A rough-looking thug walked in.  He unstrapped Eric and grabbed him by the arm.  In a thick New York accent, he spoke to Eric.

"Let's go pal.  We've got a long walk ahead of us..."

"...You have been selected for our program due to your outstanding human attributes.  We have selected you from our pool of candidates because you have been proven to have the most advanced in senses and hand/eye coordination.  Although you probably didn't know it, you are genetically ninety-nine percent better than anyone else your age.  We have been studying you for years now.  I hope for your sake that you are willing, because frankly, you don't have a choice in the matter.  Your gifts are too incredible to be wasted."

The video ended.  Eric lay in shock for awhile before gathering his senses.  Whoever these people were, they obviously had many resources, he thought nervously.  The man in the bowler hat turned.

"Does that help?"

"No!  I want to get out of here!"

...Eric barely had time to think before there was a quiet poof from the gun, and a stinging pain in his abdomen.  He looked down as his vision blurred and saw a small dart sticking into his stomach.  That's when Eric Hemsworth started down a road of dangers and peril.  The road of a quiet mercenary.

When he awoke, Eric was in a small room, laying on a bed.  It was uncomfortable, for the bed was old, and a spring jutted into his back.  He tried to move, but found he was strapped down.  A voice of sophistication suddenly came from the shadows in a far corner.

"Eric.  How are you?"

Eric responded with disgust.  "How do you think I am?"

The voice laughed.  It was not a chilling laugh, but one of utter control.  "I apologize for the rough recruitment, but it was the only way we could get you to join us."

As the man walked from the shadows, Eric saw that the voice belonged to a man of considerable height, wearing a long trenchcoat and a black bowler hat.

"Recruitment for what?" Asked Eric, confused.

The man pulled out an old projector reel from a pocket and held it up.  "Perhaps this will answer the questions you may have."

Methodically, he placed it in a rundown projector Eric hadn't noticed before and turned it on.  A bright light was projected onto the wall and a voice started talking.

"Hello new recruit.  You have been selected out of a very large number of potentials to be in our program.  Congratulations."


That's all for now!

Any ideas of what might happen next?

Sincerely,

The Night Writer

Until this is discovered...

I have decided not to post anymore fiction until this blog is discovered.  I have not advertised it, so I do not expect anyone to find it for awhile, but I would like to leave it that way.  If you find this, maybe then will I post some more fiction.

Until then I remain,

TheNightWriter

The drops of rain pelted down on the young man's head as he hurried through streets.  He was clearly bent on  something desperate, for although he went fast, he would stumble now and then on his way through the night.  The rain washed away the other drops on his face that were tears.  As he ram headlong into the windy darkness, he slipped on a brick and fell forward.  Now there was blood added to the equation.  It burned his eyes as it seeped out of his wound and flowed down into his eyes.  The young man at last gave in and slipped into a faint.

Four hours earlier.

Eric Hemsworth sat in his chair at the restaurant tapping his fingers.  His fidgeting seemed to indicate that he was waiting for someone, as he also checked his watch from time to time.  At last, someone walked up to the table.  A balding man in his mid-forties sat down across from him.

"I'm sorry, this table's reserved."  Eric said rather timidly.

The man simply smiled through unnaturally white teeth.  It was a sinister sort of smile, alerting Eric that something was terribly wrong.

"She's not coming, Eric."  He seemed to enjoy saying this.

Eric was confused.  "I'm sorry, who are you?  And how to you know my name?"

The man only lifted his napkin from his right hand.  A silver object glinted underneath.  Eric looked on in horror as the man cocked his gun......

That's all for now!  If you like this, follow and leave a comment!

There's No Such Thing as Writer's Block

I once read somewhere that writer's block is really just an excuse.  I have found that this is often very true.  When you are thinking to yourself that you can't possibly figure out anything else to write, just sit down and write whatever is on your mind.  You can even write about having writer's block, as least that would be something.  I sometimes don't feel like writing, but when I really ask myself, see that I'm just making an excuse.  Make a goal for yourself, i. e. a page, or even a paragraph a day to start out.  I find when I complete my goal each day, I feel much more accomplished for that day.

Stay tuned, for my next post will have some short fiction!

If you found this...

Hello!
If you found this blog, this is a place for writing and creativity.  I would just like a place to share my thoughts and maybe some short stories.  I love writing and would eventually like to publish my work.  I am currently 44 pages into my first novel project, and hope to finish before the end of the year.

If you found this and would like to talk about writing, please follow.

Sincerely,

TheNightWriter