Do you think this story is good. Should I keep writing.

By on December 23rd, 2009

Sweet Revenge.

Chapter 1

“Oh grave where is thy victory” I murmured mostly to myself, as I loomed my shadow over the neatly cut square where my decaying body lies. The intricate designs barely capturing the depths of my mastered thoughts. I let out a menacing laugh, shaking up the winds, causing an elderly couple to look over at my non-existent figure warily. “Oh grave, where is thy body, how will thy survive.” I sighed, “Me thinks thy holds an inquisition.” I laughed again, only this time a soft, timely laugh. I wandered over to my small grassy clearing, passing by the breathy elder couple, thinking about how it would have been nice to live the life I was meant to live. Not to have been taken so rudely from this cruel earth, thrown into the shadowlands, without so much as a goodbye, or a sweet pardoning.

Before I knew it, and before I had a thought about stopping it, my mind wandered to the horrible evening that occurred a measly hundred and four years ago. That day was inscribed in to twists and turns of my brain, it was carved into the darkest parts of my mind, bringing out the masochistic child within me. That day was my demise, and I swore I would get my revenge.

**
I woke with a start, the day’s events driving happily into my mind. “Oh, joy, oh sweet joy.” I whispered mostly to myself, but silently hoping someone would hear so I could share my love with them. Although the only people I could trust in this house where the slaves, for my parents would forbid me of my happiness if they learned who it was to be with. And my friends would think nothing but foolishness of me if they learned I was making love to a black man. But oh how I love him so, his dark skin in dire contrast to my pale complexion. His rough hands caressing my soft thighs. He was everything I dreamed of, and everything my parents loathed. I shot up out of bed, and skipped over to the bathroom, careful not to make a ruckus, for I didn’t want to wake my father. That would be preposterous. I stepped into the large shower that connected me to my over protective brother.

We were filthy rich, which I despised more than my parents racism. My father held my mother on his arm like a trophy and wore my like a fine piece of cloth. He was proud of his little girl, for being such a beauty. But I wasn’t as shallow as the other girls in Marshall, Connecticut. I hadn’t cared about looks, no I was solely out to be with my love, Harold. It was something beyond this world, something I couldn’t name. And I loved, almost more than he himself, the feeling it brought when I was with him. The way he made me feel whole again. Not how I felt when I would watch my father beat the helpless human beings below me. They had worked their hardest, only to get beaten durning the night. If I did say so myself, even though I never told I soul, I would sneak them leftovers I had found in the kitchen downstairs. Momma would lay to rest around midnight, and then I’d leap up out of bed, and race to the slave’s rescure. Some of them died, for I couldn’t steal so much food, or Momma would get suspicious. And then I would have been on the receiving end of the whip. For as much as I felt for the slaves, I was to much of a little girl to even think of getting beaten.

Before I could even think, the time had come and I was racing downstairs, and little pink bow clasped in my hand. I was almost out of the door when Momma called out my name.

“Emeline,” She had uttered, and stuck out one flimsy hand for me to catch. I grabbed onto it, almost falling out of our house to the ten foot drop below. Of coarse there were stairs, but sometimes I liked the rush of jumping. “Where are you going at such a ghastly hour.” She scolded me, picking at the bow I had. I surely wasn’t going to put that atrocity in my hair, no it was all part of the genius plan I had laid out. I was going to run away with Harold. Leave everything I once knew behind and travel to the west. Wew, quite honestly, I heard there were millions of free blacks. And I was going to leave this little pink bow in front of his quarter, so everybody knew I left with him. Maybe then they would have realized how much we were madly in love.

Hello;] This is a story about a girl who lived in the 1800’s, and fell in love with a slave. They were going to run away, but they got caught, and they hung the slave. Making Emeline, the girl, watch she ran home only to be murdered in rage by her father. One hundred and four years later, she finally gets her chance at sweet revenge. Over the years, she realized she hadn’t loved the slave all that much, but the mystery he brought. And Em is out to kill all those who took her mystery away. She tricks two hopeless teens into recreating her body using an old ritual from hell, and in success, brings her alive. There, and only given three years on earth, she concocts her plan at revenge. But when she meets a hopeless romantic, a seventeen year old boy, who in truth believes h
yeah, Dani I send you the full copy once I get it done haha. Maybe a few more months;] Should be done by then;]