I listen to music while I write, and it really helps it feel more realistic. I would suggest if you are able to dim the lights and turn on some music while reading. It transports you to another place for a while, and really enhances the read. I hope you like, as I'm totally a Team Eric girl. I read his character through the books, and am sold-lock, stock, and smoking barrel. Oh, and the usual disclaimer: I borrowed this stuff from Charlaine Harris-keep writing, girl!!! :[
".....You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You gotta fight just to make it through.
'Cause I will be the death of you......."
- Breaking Benjamin, "Breath"
-(SPOV)- It is dark. I am running barefooted, in my nightgown, and the gravel is hurting my feet. I'm running for my life, but I know nothing; I
have no idea where I am, where I've been, or where I'm going. The on ly thing I know is that I can feel someone who I know will protect me,
someone who I know will help me. My lungs feel like they're on fire from the deep breaths I've been heaving in and out while I've been running,
running for what seems like hours. I can't run anymore now. I have to stop and catch my breath. As I come to a jerky stop and bend over at the
knees to end the burning in my lungs, I begin to hear the sounds I hadn't been hearing over the gravel crunching under my feet. I look around
at the dark woods around me and at the mostly dark country road in front of me, illuminated scantily by the half moon. The fear in me is building.
I am very afraid, and panic starts setting in. A million chaotic thoughts were screaming through my mind, and I was confused and scared. I am
realizing that no one is coming to help me, and then I hear it. A gentle snap of a twig sends my adrenaline rushing through my veins. I am so
close to screaming. I hear it again, but slightly closer. Another snap, but this time from somewhere on my other side. I am sweating profusely
and my fingernails have dug crescents into my palms. I can't take it anymore, and hear a dry, broken scream coming from my still-burning lungs.
And all of a sudden, I felt like I was falling suddenly and quickly................
I flew upright in my bed, covered in sweat and screaming loudly. My eyes were wide in the dark, my breathing coming in jagged breaths, until I
realized I was home. I looked around and saw my dresser near the window, with the curtain softly billowing in the cool night air. I heard nothing
around me, and realized I was safe. I inhaled deeply, and tried to calm myself, breathing out a huge sigh-a sigh of relief that I wasn't going to
be harmed, and that I wasn't lost, mentally or physically. I leaned back on one arm, and rubbed my eyes and my face with my free hand. I just
had a horrible dream. My first thought was that I hoped Bill didn't come running over here to see if I was in need of assistance fromm all the
screaming I had been doing for who knows how long. Oh yeah, Bill's not here. He's out of the country. Well, thank God I'll be spared the
embarrassment of someone knowing about these stupid dreams I've been having for the past few nights. Ever since last week, I'd been getting the
greatest, deepest sleep I'd had in weeks, with all that had been going on. But, the deep restful sleep eventually turned into a very realistic,
scary dream. I've read on the internet that dreams have been "interpreted" to mean something, but how the hell did the "experts" know that an
object symbolizes a certain meaning when you dream about it? I wasn't so sure about the dream interpreting stuff. I reached over and flipped
my lamp on next to the bed on my old nightstand. -Click.-- I looked around, and my room was exactly the way I'd left it when I crawled into bed
tonight. I looked at the clock beside the lamp, and it was reading 12:30am. Great. Just fucking great. Here I thought I'd woken up with this
stupid nightmare halfway through my sleep or more, but I hadn't been in bed more than a few minutes this time. Disgusted at my continuing
issues with night terrors that I couldn't explain (I hadn't been eating before bed or anything unusual) I threw back the covers and stomped
down the hall to the kitchen. The rest of the house was dark, but I knew it like the back of my hand. I grew up in this house. I could go blind and
never have a problem finding my way around it. I reached the kitchen sink, and flipped the fluoresents on. With a few tings, the light blinked on
to create a soft, bluish glow. I opened a cuppard door and reached for a glass. I silently poured a quarter glass of cool tap water, and let the
liquid ease the discomfort of my parched mouth and throat. Damn, I really must have been yelling my head off. My throat felt raw. I started
debating talking to Sam about my nightmares, but I immediately squashed that idea. He already worries about me enough as it is. I decided I
wanted to sit outside on the porch swing, so I grabbed my old ugly afghan off the back of the couch and walked outside with my glass in hand. I
closed the door behind me and walked over to the swing and sat.