>>5646550>>5646552Thanks breh.
I haven't written prose in a long time, so I'm including a snippet here of the first part here. I worry that my writing style might be a bit verbose, so I'd like some feedback on it.
>-----In truth, it didn't hurt all that much. He had been a gangly stalker, one who she may or may not have fucked, and he had probably been lingering just out of eyesight for the past couple days. Not the first time she had someone tailing her, but he was the first one to get violent.
Lanky, had a hard time talking... probably had some kind of autism... and when it happened, he had tried to approach to her on an alley smoke break with a mashed “konnichiwa” that failed to impress her. The usual flurry of questions came... or it might've, if he hadn't taken a good half minute to ask if she was the real Noodle.
He asked if she was really Noodle.
Noodle told him she wasn't.
He took a good ten seconds to tell her she was just being shy.
Noodle told him to fuck off, and started walking away.
He tried to tell her that he was her biggest fan.
She kept walking.
He mumbled his sad dissent until she was out of earshot of him. The next time she saw him was ten minutes later, when he glanced her in the shoulder blade with a pocket knife.
Noodle ran, Noodle yelled. Some stuff happened, there was a trip to the hospital and a couple conversations with people whose faces she couldn't remembered.
She thought nothing about it.
So why the fuck did it matter to her, now that her scalp was bleeding?
