Your Name: Jeremy Tischer
Location: Seminole, Florida
Sample of writing(ex. a poem,short story or song lyrics):
Lestat took the man's face and swayed his hands infront of his eyes. The man felt cold and afraid. "I can show you a world where you're never alone." The man followed him. Lestat peeked to him from time to time. The man looked as if he shouldn't have been there. Lestat read his thoughts and quickly reasured him. Lestat knowing alone, was enough. Lestat seated him nestled in the lap of a scuplture of an angel. The rest of the graves were just unfitting. "Are you ready, for the gift, that can forever give?"
Lestat turned his head and bent over, kneeling on one knee. "Wait! I change my mi-" The man was stopped by Lestat's fangs. He quivered and trembled as the blood swam from body to body. When he was done, Lestat could here something a little extra. He notched his head to the man's breast pocket. He peeled open his vest, as the man lay there slipping further and further into total darkness. Lestat pulled open the pocket, and smiled off a look of disgust.
"A microphone, who are you? A James Bond? Or some other hero?" Lestat whispered in a giggle. He held the receaver to his ear. "I hope you don't mind." The man lay there silent.
"Wilson, have you apprehended him yet? Wilson...Wislon?" Lestat's face turned curious. He rose an eyebrow and half-smiled at his undercover friend.
The man watched with glass eyes. "Hold on chief, he's turning cold." Lestat lowered the microphone, to his side and smiled at his friend. He pulled a C.D. player out of his pocket. He smiled a real smile, and caughed a laugh. "I'm runnin' down a dream." He started swaying and singing. He pulled a bottle from the littered ground, and smashed it over the Man's right shoulder. Using the broken edges, he slashed away his message.
He pulled the microphone back to his smiling lips. "Wilson, is no more. But do feel free to come and find my fingerprints. I picked up a bottle, if you want to check it. I've got a concert." He lifted into the air and was out of sight within a second.
What inspired what you just wrote: I love Anne Rice novels, and I love Vampires. So I guess, I just think that kind of writing is most interesting.
Favorite Color: Red
When did you start writing: I guess around sixth grade.
Favorite Music/artists: Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Offspring
Favorite Author: Anne Rice
At least one picture of yourself: At least one picture of yourself: <img src="http://pictures.greatestjournal.com/user