View Full Version : Revelations from the Grave (Rated 14 and over)

March 6th, 2005, 1:36 PM
This story contains some language and situations some would consider strong for younger readers since it deals with real life issues so I'd have to say that readers should be at least 14 years old and up.

My name is Angelus. I live in Chesapeake, in a small town but just recently moved a few blocks down, like any teen I enjoy music, movies and other insignificant trinkets other teens enjoy but one thing separates me form the rest of them. I never got passed the age of 19. Why? Ill tell you why. For as long as I can remember Ive always felt like I was different from the rest. I had peculiar tastes in games, movies and as I played with my sister, brother and friends I was always the bad guy or the traitor. Being young I never gave it much thought and thought it to be fun to play the bad guy. All always told me I was good at it. Then as I grew older my tastes grew darker and stranger, the movies Id taken a liking to were all about murder, blood and gore, the occult and werewolves and vampires. The reading material I started to read was mostly by Edgar Allen Poe and Anne Rice. And the music I listened to was hard-core, heavy metal. My parents often told me how weird I was and how they doubted if I was Christian at all.

I guess all the **** started when I was in my second semester in 10th grade. Id just turned 16 and my parents were pressuring me to get my learners permit. That and the pressure of schoolwork made a nice number on my self-esteem and mind. Once I finally got my learners permit it became more of a hassle. I didnt know how to drive and my father would brake into a fight whenever we mentioned cars. I dreaded talks about cars, for it would always lead to my father yelling at me for not being able to learn how to drive. Many times I felt like screaming my lungs off but I always remained timid and quiet. A mistake I learned of later on. One day in history class we had to do some work as a team, I hated to do work in a team, I was more of a loner and could do things better by myself than with other people.

We, my life long friend and two more friends teamed up with this other kid, who others labeled as weird. Somehow we turned our conversation to addictions, I said mine was drinking and that other kid pulled over his sleeve and showed us his arm full of scars. This is mine. He said quietly and kind of sadly. The others were frightened but I felt no emotion towards the scars. Didnt give it much thought after the work was done but my friends were freaking out over it. One of them said some pretty harsh stuff and the other said, What a ****in freak show. $10 says he winds up dead before the end of the year. I didnt say anything. We didnt know what sort of problems he had and so it seemed pretty wrong to judge him.

So as time passed I tried my best in school, studying, doing my work and stuff. Then at one of those parent/teacher meetings mom came over to pick up my grades. I knew they were horrible. Not horrible that I was about to fail but to mom it wasnt good enough. She didnt say anything there but once at home she started to talk about how disappointed she is about how Ive been doing in high school. To worsen things up my dad showed up and started talking about how intelligent I really was but wasnt putting much of an effort. I couldnt have felt any worse. In my mind I always said I was stupid but everyone else said I was pretty smart. I never said I was smart even though I was pretty good at history; I could name people and places most friends and family had never even heard of. That made me feel better at times but it was a momentary pleasure, math then kicked in. I always stunk at math. It and I were mortal enemies. As I watched others understand and answer the questions I sank into a deep black endless hole that no one could help me out of. Once home I came to the comforts of changing clothes and going to my room to write in my journals. They werent a really journal that was just the codename Id given to those notebooks. In the summer of 2000 a few months before my grandmother died of cancer Id taken the hobby of writing these stories, which were more like chronicles. At first no one knew of them except for my sister. It was about a werewolf and how hed been responsible for a massacre back in the year 1714 and was part of a hidden organization working for the government and up to the day I died I had kept writing those stories. Some time after my mom came to notice that I was always writing in a notebook and asked what it was. I didnt answer since she had always been a prejudiced Catholic. Everything written in the bible was true and everything that was not in the bible was satanic.

Then came my wars with my stories and mom. It was hell, she hated to see me writing in the notebooks cause she knew what it was about thanks to Alec, my little brother. He blurted out the storys content and she quickly began her ridiculous speech about Satanism and Christianity. I hated those talks. Its not that I am an atheist, no, because I do believe in a higher power much greater than us. I just didnt take it to her level. Going to church bore me to tears, Id yawn a lot. Sometimes out loud just to make others see the priest was boring me. I had no problems with Christianity but there were some things that bothered me. Things like sex before marriage being a sin, that I found absolutely ridiculous and that you had to always go to church on Sundays and special occasions was something else that bothered me. And the one thing that made my blood boil was how they always say how their religion is the only right one and all others were wrong.

I never let anyone know of these feeling for they might have quickly turned their hands and slapped me, especially mom. I was one that never cared what people thought of or said about me. To me humanity was just another illness, but I did care what my close relatives thought and I liked hearing encouraging words from my parents. But I never came to know such words from my dad only form mom and some times. The only one that had always been there for me was my younger sister, Katrina. She and I could talk about almost anything; we were the best of friends. For her Id give my life, she backed me up and I backed her up. One night while we were staying at my aunts house everyone felt like going out to eat but I was in no mood to go anywhere. I told them I felt like staying behind and I did. For hours I sat at the couch staring into oblivion and emotionless. Then a herd of thoughts and worries overcame my mind and the tears quickly raced down my cheeks. I still hadnt been able to get the **** license and it was starting to really annoy my parents. I yelled at myself, screaming how stupid I was that my little brother who was just 13 years old could drive and I a 16 year old couldnt. I fell asleep and the next day I just kind of felt better.

From that point on I always yelled insanities at myself and punished myself. My fingernails werent really long but they were not short. I stretched out my right arm and with my left scratched my arm in the wrist area. Id slowly and deeply scratched until I drew blood. Wasnt deep enough to bleed to death but it left a mark. That was the first time I had ever done such a thing and to my amazement I felt better. Then every time Id mess something up Id relay on self-mutilation to make me feel better. This went on for a while and luckily no one had noticed. Once in 11th grade mom had stopped bothering me about the notebooks and by that time I had like 5 notebooks full of the werewolf stories I had written. Moms attention turned to my taste in music that according to her scared her. Saying that people who listened to it would some times kill themselves. I told her she had nothing to worry about and it was true, I wasnt planning about killing myself over some song by Godsmack or Slipknot. Katrina and Alec were into rap and hip-hop and ballads, which I found utterly stupid and nauseating. I had always hated hip-hop and abhorred rap. I was always in the search for metal, the heavier the better. As time passed I slowly but surely learned to drive by myself and with my aunts help. Then I passed the test and received my license at last. Things cooled down a bit and all was well and I hadnt hurt myself in months. I thought things were finally gonna turn for the better. In 12th grade I was having the time of my life, my friends and I were always hanging out either at the mall or movies, my parents got off my case about the notebooks and music and my sister and I were getting along famously, things were perfect.

March 6th, 2005, 2:38 PM
Oooh, this fan fic is kinda about the stuff we're learning in Health right now. ^____^ It's all about drugs, peer pressure, and alcohol. @[email protected]

Well, first I have a few suggestions for you. ^^ Your story has a pretty good length to it, but the paragraphs are way too long. It kinda gives a forbeoding feeling and makes the reader not want to go through and read the whole thing.

Paragraphs are usually made up of at least three sentences or so. Though you also can move on to a new paragraph if you're sarting a new topic. ^o^ Like if you're talking about a wolf's habitat, then move on to its food sources; that's when you'd also move to a new paragraph. ^^

Also, I noticed that in some areas your punctuation could use just a little bit of improvement. It's mainly in areas where you're listing things. Remember, when listing people, animals, whatever, you always put a comma after each item.

Example: "I went to the store to buy some milk, cheese, bread, and a jug of water."

Well, that's about all the things that needed real touch-ups in your fan fic. ^^ It's really good so far, Shadow, keep it up! ^.~