Home Page › Forums › Fiction Writing › General Writing Discussions › The Chat Chat
- This topic has 6,732 replies, 63 voices, and was last updated 3 days, 17 hours ago by Esther.
-
AuthorPosts
-
August 30, 2024 at 4:00 pm #185128
@rae I’m so glad you’re doing well𼰠Rowing sounds fun, and I’m glad you’ve found a good friend :3
AND WOO HOOOOO ON THE STORY PROGRESS!!!! đđđ
I’m glad everyone’s doing…fine. Most of them sound good, others…I may be a little concerned XXD
I’m so sorry. đđ I miss him too.
Leon and Riker are….fine??? I guess??? I’m currently editing Broken Shackles for the 2nd time, and where I’m at now…ermmmm…they may or not be on their way to being brought to their most broken stateđ
So, if editing doesn’t count, they’re chilling out with some blankets and hot cocoa somewhere chilly and relaxing with a fireplace and books and comfy couches since I’m done writing them for the next several months đđ (until I start writing the 3rd book, but planning on waiting until at least 2025 for that)
- This reply was modified 2 months ago by freedom.
⨠who the Son sets free is free indeed â¨
August 30, 2024 at 4:02 pm #185130@anyone
Idk if any of y’all have Goodreads, but if you do and wish to do so, I have an account on there, and Freedom’s Fire is on there as well! đ (just delete the space after the h to see the profile)
h ttps://www.goodreads.com/author_katelyn_douglas
⨠who the Son sets free is free indeed â¨
August 30, 2024 at 4:38 pm #185134So, if editing doesnât count, theyâre chilling out with some blankets and hot cocoa somewhere chilly and relaxing with a fireplace and books and comfy couches since Iâm done writing them for the next several months đđ
Now you’re gonna make me cry happy tears!
Man, I can’t wait until Nahim can do that, but alas, he doesn’t know what hot cocoa is.
"You need French Toast."
August 30, 2024 at 5:29 pm #185137I’m bad at plotting, but I can try.
There are two types of people in this world. Those who can extrapolate from incomplete data
August 31, 2024 at 10:12 am #185142i just left you a little gift on goodreads!
đ
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
September 2, 2024 at 9:30 am #185181I’m on Goodreads, if you’d like another friend.
Signature is limited to 100 characters? That seems awfully unjust. We refuse to be bound by these ru
September 2, 2024 at 3:24 pm #185189@highscribeofaetherium Sure! Just let me know what your name is on there, so I’ll know it’s you XD
@ellette-giselle Thank you for your gift. It means so muchđđđ⨠who the Son sets free is free indeed â¨
September 3, 2024 at 8:48 pm #185229GASP guys Iâm over 3000 posts! Thatâs actually insane, I canât believe I yap so much.
âEverything is a mountainâ
September 4, 2024 at 12:07 am #185249@anyonewhoknowswhoFelis
Should I make Felicity albino and give her pink eyes, or keep her original silvery eyes? I canât decide
âNothing says autumn like slurpinâ apples.â -my uncle
September 4, 2024 at 12:09 am #185250Congrats, youâre a expert yapper đ
âEverything is a mountainâ
What
âNothing says autumn like slurpinâ apples.â -my uncle
September 4, 2024 at 10:00 am #185258I don’t know who this character is, but silver eyes sound WAY cooler then pink.
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
September 4, 2024 at 2:54 pm #185272Should I make Felicity albino and give her pink eyes, or keep her original silvery eyes? I canât decide
I like her silver eyes because they make me think of a snowy academia setting, that’s my personal preference. But choose whichever makes you more happy.
Congrats, youâre a expert yapper đ
*Pins star on my shirt*
What
It’s a Marcel quote about depression. It popped into my head while studying, and it made a lot of sense at the time.
âEverything is a mountainâ
September 4, 2024 at 4:33 pm #185278Ok! Iâm Bridget E. on Goodreads.
Iâll send a request.
Signature is limited to 100 characters? That seems awfully unjust. We refuse to be bound by these ru
September 4, 2024 at 8:20 pm #185285Itâs a Marcel quote about depression. It popped into my head while studying, and it made a lot of sense at the time.
Oh. That hits kinda hard actually. I thought it was going to be something funny. đ
@whaley @ellette-giselle
thanks for the input! I decided the silver fits her wintery vibe better.
Iâll have to make some other albino character sometime cuz it seems fun to draw
âNothing says autumn like slurpinâ apples.â -my uncle
September 5, 2024 at 5:42 pm #185337@koshka @ellette-giselle @whalekeeper @grcr @rae @savannah_grace2009 @keilah-h @highscribeofaetherium @mineralizedwritings @loopylin @anyone-else
I haven’t written much of anything new lately (editing/formatting is draining, y’allđŞ) but I have this scene I shared a while back but have now edited (plus not all of y’all were here when I shared it, sođ¤ˇđťââď¸) that I wished to shaređ
so here we go
TW: FLASHBACKS. MENTIONS OF DEATH. FLASHBACK TO M*RDER. PARENTAL AB*SE. NONE OF IT IS GRAPHIC, I PROMISE. Y’ALL SHOULD KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH BY NOW TO KNOW EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ANGST. (jkjk, but a lot of it is XD)
âThe Lord has been faithful even in the darkest of nights. His word promises, âAnd we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.â I know we have just left a dark time, and dark days still lie before us, but God will turn all of this into good, churchâŚhe will.â Ezekiel Gessner preached, firm yet quiet, leaning forward, his palms planted on a simple wooden pulpit.
Riker ducked his head a bit lower, seated in the empty, furthest pew from the pulpit he could find. He shifted on the cold wood that was anything but comfortable.
âThere is much anger in this land we call home. The darkness has been exposed and people have been hurt. I understand the hurt and I too have felt the anger, but I stand before all of you now to say that only forgiveness can heal this land from the scars of the war we are struggling to leave behind us.â
Forgiveness?
How did the hurt forgive the ones that had hurt, like Riker?
âBut forgiveness is not impossible, and for those who are the ones who hurt the hurting, forgiveness is only a sentence away. For, âif we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.â No one, no one is too far gone for the grace of our Lord, my fellow brothers and sistersâŚno one. Nothing youâve done can ever change the Fatherâs love for you.â
âNo one except you, sinnerâŚmurderer.â
Riker shifted; his fingers trembled.
âMurderer.â
âYouâre too far gone for redemption.â
âItâs too late for youâŚGod has already left someone like you.â
âGod doesnât want a mistake like you.â
He jolted forward, and several heads turned to face him, some with contempt, others with deep, unmerited concern.
None of them knew what heâd done, and even if they did, only the looks of contempt were deserved.
It wasnât true.
It couldnât be true.
There wasnât grace for men like him. There wasnât forgiveness for murderers. There wasnât mercy for sinners. There wasnât love for mistakes.
So, then, what was he doing inside a church?
He stumbled to his feet, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. He stumbled his way outside the church and onto the street, each step threatening to make him topple.
Why had he ever even thought of attending Calvary church? He didnât belong there. He didnât belong anywhere near any church. Â Ezekiel was wrong. He had to be. Why would God waste His mercy, if He had any, on a sinner like Riker Schind?
Riker shoved his way into a bar, ignoring the scents of drinks he hated more than himself. âThere you are, Schind. I thought youâd be here sooner. Heâs at that table over there in the corner.â
Riker nodded at the man behind the counter and strode over to the corner he frequented almost every night. âCome on. Itâs time to go.â
Eyes bloodshot, a cigarette in one hand and a glass filled with amber alcohol in the other, his father offered a slight smile. âAh, Riker. Care for a drink, son?â
His arm moved, his hand shaking. The cup tilted and alcohol spilled over Rikerâs coat.
Riker blanched and faced his father with the firmest frown he could muster even though his fingers trembled knowing what he was about to face. âPut down the drink and put out the cigarette, Father. Itâs time to go home.â
Franz stumbled to his full height, swaying on his feet. âI donât think you tell me what to do, boy,â his words slurred together, becoming almost indistinguishable. He dropped his cigarette, âAnd you donât hold that tone with me.â
Riker pried the glass from his fatherâs fingers. âI think youâve had enough. Please, letâs just go home.â
âGive me back my-my drink, boyâŚâ
He stood taller and threw the cup against the wall, shattering the glass and spilling alcohol across the floor. âYouâve had enough.â
His fatherâs hand came, as Riker knew it would, knocking Riker backwards into a table. Franz swayed, looming over Riker. âYou donât tell me whatâŚto do, boy.â
He groaned and leaned his head back, anticipating the blows that were certain to follow the first. A fist met a table with an echoing thud.
One shot. Two shots. The manâs legs crumpled beneath him, his still body hitting the ground with an echoing thud. Another innocent life taken. More guards rose their guns. More gunshots. More still bodies to join the first.
âSchind! Riker!â
Riker jolted forward, his head ramming into another manâs. The man cussed, and Riker blinked several times to clear his vision. âI-Iâm sorry, sir.â
The gray-haired man who had been standing behind the counter at Rikerâs arrival, the man he knew to be the one who ran the bar shrugged and nodded towards the corner booth. âMight be the best time to take your father home, son. Heâs already asleep.â
Riker stumbled to his feet. âI-I will. Thank you, sir.â
The man chuckled. âYouâre always having to drag him home, son. Maybe you should just leave him here. I donât care. More business for me.â
Laughter echoed through the still space, and his cheeks flamed. âI need to take him home, sir.â He placed his hands beneath his fatherâs armpits, and, with effort, hoisted his father up and partially on his back, his fatherâs feet dragging the floor.
Chuckles and booming laughs echoing in his ears, Riker pushed himself forward, his legs threatening to give way beneath him, carrying his own weight and the weight of his father.
He marched outside into the rain he hadnât noticed began to fall, his boots slipping on the wet cobblestone. Red-hot tears coursed down his cheeks, warming his cold skin.
The humiliation of dragging his father home dead drunk almost every night was far from unfamiliar, but even that fact didnât take away the pain of it all.
If his father forgot what happened, heâd be lucky.
Even if it was pain he deserved, it didnât take the pain away.
~*~
âYou made it, Leon.â
Leon nodded at Aaron. âMy mother-in-law is with the kids.â
Aaron smiled and gripped Leonâs forearm. âCome with me. The other men are already waiting.â
Leon allowed Aaron to pull him further into the abandoned factory, struggling to adjust to the darkness. Dim lanternlight shone in his eyes, illuminating the large space enough to see but not enough to detect from outside.
Aaron released his arm. âEveryone, this is Leon, the man I told all of you about.â
A tall man stood, his burly body nothing more than a shadow besides his bearded face crisscrossed with scars. He extended a large hand. âJoash Levy.â
Leon took his hand and gave it a firm shake. âLeon Wagner.â
Aaron clapped the man, Joash, on the back and offered Leon a smile. âJoash was imprisoned at Auschwitz in PolandâŚIâm sure youâve heard of it,â Leon nodded, so Aaron continued, âand eventually was brought here to Germany and escaped another camp several miles from here. He has helped us fight back against the Nazis.â
Leon dropped his voice to a dangerous whisper. âAaron, what is this about?â
âThis is about revenge.â
His gaze rose, and he met Joashâs hard, dark gaze. âAnd what exactly do you mean by revenge?â
Aaron rose a half-smile. âI already told you, Leon, weâll take everything from them that they took from us. Their lives, even.â
Evil for evil and a life for a life: that was their revenge. The men that had done what they did to Leon, Aaron, Isaiah, Yosef, Joash, and so many others deserved to die, Leon knew that, but was it really left to their hands?
âMurder is wrong, Aaron. And is revenge really up to you?â
ââHe teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by mine arms.ââ Joash quoted, standing firm.
Leon bristled at the quoted scripture and faced Joash with a firm shake of his head. âI donât think you know what youâre doing.â
Joash took two steps forward, his solid frame looming in front of Leon. Leon stood firm and tall even though his head barely reached the manâs chest. Â âI donât think he should be here, Haddad,â Joash scoffed and faced Aaron, âhe obviously does not share our mission.â
Aaronâs gaze cut to Leon, his brown eyes searching, questioning. âLeon, donât you want the ones responsible for your wifeâs death to pay for their crimes?â
âJa.â
âThen why donât you stay? You can help us. You can-â
âMurder is still wrong, Aaron. If we kill them, weâre no better than them.â
Joashâs eyes hardened, so Leon gave both men a firm nod. âGoodbye, Aaron, Joash. I can see myself out.â
Leon marched out of the factory and into the roaring rain.
Each droplet pelted him as if the rain itself mocked him.
Everything in Leon ached to cry out, scream, curse the sky and everything around him, but he also knew that no one on earth or in heaven would even hear or care. He lifted a pebble off the broken street and hurled it with a loud groan deep from within his soul.
What did he do to deserve such pain? What did he do to deserve abandonment? What did he do to deserve such grief? For that matter, what did Aadelheide do to deserve death? Pain squeezed Leonâs chest from the inside out, threatening to steal his breath.
He had to not think about it. He had to forget.
Leon stumbled onto the porch and fumbled with the lock to his mother-in-lawâs home, still unable to secure a job so he could provide for his kids on his own.
He opened the door, dishing his coat and tossing it on a rack. He tossed his keys into his coat pocket and trudged his way into the kitchen, opening and slamming cabinets.
âLeon, dear, we have a guest tonight. I know itâs late, but-â
He pulled a glass bottle out of a cabinet and popped off the top before facing Louisa. âLouisa, Iâm exhausted-â
âGood evening, Leon. It has been a while.â
Leon blinked several times, his mind desperately trying to sort through everything heâd been through to recognize the man, the face, standing before him. ââŚEzekiel?â
Ezekiel rose a small smile and nodded. âItâs me. I had a late Friday night service tonight and decided I would come and see Louisa, but I didnât know you were living here. Iâm happy to see that you and the kids are well.â
Leon shrugged, facing the man he once saw as his pastor. âOf course. Why wouldnât we be fine?â
Ezekielâs blonde eyebrows squeezed together, and he rested a hand on Leonâs shoulder. âLeon, you can be honest with me. God knows and understandsâ”
âThere you go, just like everyone else.â
âLeon.â Louisa whispered, chiding.
Leon settled in a chair at the table, offering Ezekiel a smile devoid of any humor. âIâm sure you have other matters to attend to. Why donât you go sell someone else a bunch of lies?â
Louisa gasped. âLeon!â
Ezekiel turned to Louisa with a small smile. âLouisa, could you give Leon and I a few moments?â
Though she was twenty years Ezekielâs senior and could have easily said ânoâ, Louisa nodded and left the room.
Leon rolled his eyes and tipped up his glass, savoring the alcohol.
Ezekiel pulled out a chair and sat across from him, crossing his arms on the table and lapsing into silence.
Leon raised an eyebrow and took another sip. âAre you going to say something?â
âI was waiting for you to say something first. Leon, I canât even imagine the pain youâre going through, and I canât even pretend to know everything you have been through, but Leon, God is not to blame for Aadelheideâs death.â
âYou donât know that.â
âGod does not bring harm on anyone, Leon. Evil happens because of the sin found in every man and womanâs heart. Humanity brought sin into the world, not God.â
Leon chuckled. âI thought God was powerful. If Heâs so powerful, why doesnât He stop it?â
âGod gave mankind a free will-â
âThat doesnât matter. Couldnât God stop it if He wanted to? If He did nothing, itâs because He didnât want to do anything. He chose to let Aadelheide die. He sat by and watched herâlet herâdie. Thatâs what you donât understand, Ezekiel, thatâs what no one understands.â
Ezekielâs eyes brightened with tears. âAadelheide believed in HimâŚsheâs in heaven, Leon. I know it hurts, but you have to know that God isnât to blameâ”
âIsnât to blame? God sat by and did nothing and heâs not to blame for Aadelheideâs death? No, God did nothing and let the Nazis, let Riker, kill her-â
Ezekielâs head shot up. âRiker? Riker Schind?â
Leon took a long, ingulfing sip. âYeah. What does it matter to you? He killed my wife.â
Ezekielâs gaze fell. He released a deep sigh and whispered something Leon couldnât quite distinguish.
Leon rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, his steps wobbly and his legs threatening to give way beneath him. âI think you should leave.â
Ezekiel slowly nodded and stood. ââŚI will. But I wonât stop praying for you, Leon.â
âFat lot of good that will do.â
Ezekiel smiled sadly and disappeared around the corner.
The front door closed with a quiet click.
Leon sank back into his chair, his head spinning. He stared at the ceiling and waited for the alcohol to kick in and numb his pain.
⨠who the Son sets free is free indeed â¨
-
AuthorPosts
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.