Any Ideas of What I Should Name It?
I need help thinking of an idea of what to name this since I'm not very good at coming up with names and this story doesn't really have exact plots. I just started writing and the words just kind of came though, but it is not very good.
She had written down of what seemed like a chapter until her hand finally stopped. Her hand ached; her arm also didn't feel awesome because it stayed in the arch for way too long so it decided to cramp up on her. She sighed, looking at the words she scribbled on the papers.
Some of the words weren't even in English but in Latin; she hadn't studied Latin but it was plain obvious that she wasn't even the one who is exactly writing all this nonsense but the critics seem to like it.
Once her hand starts writing, she wasn't even in control of it, even unconscious her hand would start writing it down. There was something weird going on and she didn't even want to start talking about it with her parents who are already suspicious of why her walls were covered with Latin writing.
The writing made sense, as it kept going it was forming into a story
She sat by the grave, tears pouring down; she couldn't live without him. Why did he not just stay home as I asked, if he did he wouldn't have fallen down those stairs crashing through the windows that became his demise. More tears kept coming as she tried brushing them away but it was useless.
"Elizabeth..."a voice behind her said she turned slowly meeting his gaze; the man had black hair, pitch black eyes and very pale, perfect skin. She knew what he was but she couldn't bring herself to believe it even after seeing it many times. He stepped forward, putting a bouquet of flowers onto his grave, "even I don't like the dead haunting me and its more polite" he tried grinning but that brought down her mood even more "I loved him" she said "He is gone" his voice was strong, powerful "you can't do anything about it, not even I can, since he is already dead" his voice was more sorrowful now, "why are you even here because I know it is not for my husband" she said softly, trying to stop her annoying tears "my dear, I'm only here to give you a choice."
Some of the words weren't even in English but in Latin; she hadn't studied Latin but it was plain obvious that she wasn't even the one who is exactly writing all this nonsense but the critics seem to like it.
Once her hand starts writing, she wasn't even in control of it, even unconscious her hand would start writing it down. There was something weird going on and she didn't even want to start talking about it with her parents who are already suspicious of why her walls were covered with Latin writing.
The writing made sense, as it kept going it was forming into a story
She sat by the grave, tears pouring down; she couldn't live without him. Why did he not just stay home as I asked, if he did he wouldn't have fallen down those stairs crashing through the windows that became his demise. More tears kept coming as she tried brushing them away but it was useless.
"Elizabeth..."a voice behind her said she turned slowly meeting his gaze; the man had black hair, pitch black eyes and very pale, perfect skin. She knew what he was but she couldn't bring herself to believe it even after seeing it many times. He stepped forward, putting a bouquet of flowers onto his grave, "even I don't like the dead haunting me and its more polite" he tried grinning but that brought down her mood even more "I loved him" she said "He is gone" his voice was strong, powerful "you can't do anything about it, not even I can, since he is already dead" his voice was more sorrowful now, "why are you even here because I know it is not for my husband" she said softly, trying to stop her annoying tears "my dear, I'm only here to give you a choice."
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