I wrote a story today. It's very different from what I usually write. It's about a guy named Derick, his life traumas, and how a chick called Lorna adds to them. It has a lot of psychological issues and shit in it, and, wonder of wonders, it's just plain fiction, not fanfic or sci-fi/fantasy.
Here's the first part. If you want to read the rest, just ask.
by The Cloudtrader
She told me her name was Lorna and I never questioned her about it, though in later years I would come to believe that wasn�t her real name. I don�t think she ever learned my last name and she probably didn�t care that she hadn�t.
The world was dull and grey the day I met Lorna. I�d gone to the park to get away from my parents and sulk. I was a rather depressed child, pouty and sullen, give to malicious pranks and tantrums. She never asked, but I think my mother knew why I was so angry at the universe. Only once, when I was in high school, did she give any indication that she knew. In that vague way of hers, mother asked if I wanted to see a therapist and then never mentioned it again after I coldly turned her down.
I don�t believe my father knew though. He wasn�t around enough to ever really get to know me or my sister. Sadie would try to get his attention by being the best in her class, or winning a karate match, or by making him dinner, but I never cared. At least, that�s what I told myself at the time. That I was in the park that day belied that belief. My art teacher had chosen my project for the central display at school and I had excitedly told father of my good fortune. His disinterest had crushed me and I�d run away to the park to be alone.
But it wasn�t to be. That day when I was fourteen, I met Lorna. I don�t know what my life would have been like if I hadn�t met her, but I do know that it would have been very different. Sure, I might not have as many scars, emotional and physical, if I hadn�t met her, but I also probably wouldn�t have so many memories of joy. I�d have most likely stayed dull. I�d have drifted through life, being the good little repressed boy, the upstanding man.
I�m glad I met Lorna, for she taught me passion, even though it was the passion of lust and hate and fear. I didn�t know it at the time, but on that winter day that I met her, I truly began to live.