As the title says, I wrote a story. I think its pretty good, but I've seen better. Here goes nothin'!

-------------------------

“You love her, don’t you,” Dusk spat, biting back tears. Her fists were clenched: tough, sharp nails threatening to break tender skin. The wind was cold and forceful, sending her raven-black hair swirling around. Thunder and lightening filled the dark sky, heavy rain flooding everything. Her intense sapphire eyes were locked on Quinn’s face.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry Dusk. I like you, I really do. But, when I’m with her…” he replied. Dusk squealed sharply. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, betraying her strong demeanor. Quinn reached out to her, but she shoved him off. “What do you think you are doing? You think you can rip my mind apart like that, then just try to comfort me?” she shrieked, blood pumping with enraged adrenaline.

Quinn winced at the sharpness of her voice. He had never seen her so angry. He shook his head. “Listen. Dusk, it’s not the end of the world. You need to move on,” he suggested. She looked like she was about to kill him, but she ran off instead.

Dusk ran through the gloomy, forbidding forest tripping over roots and undergrowth. Her hair was muddled and full of twigs. The howling wind was encircling her, the icy air stinging her lungs like needles. She slashed her way through, thorns ripping at her skin. She was bleeding badly, and then tripped on an overgrown root. She fell down, unconscious.

Dusk woke in the morning soaking wet and sore. Her whole body throbbed with immense pain. She forced herself up, and stumbled to a clearing. A man stood there, in a heavy black cloak. His arm was extended towards her, bony fingers delicately holding a white rose. “Who are you?” she asked. The man bowed slightly. “I am Love,” he said in a remarkable voice. It was loud, yet soft; harsh, yet gentle; scary, yet beautiful.

Dusk raised an eyebrow. She had heard of a creature that calls himself Love. If he is holding a white rose, it represents love. If it is a black rose, well no one really knows. They say, whichever one you take decides your future. One is a punishment, the other, a reward. And right now, Dusk wanted love. She wanted it badly. She desired it, longed for it.

Dusk reached out and took the white rose, marveling at its beauty. She turned it around, lost in a trance. Then, she looked up, horrorstruck. Love’s thin mouth was twisted into an evil smile. She looked down and let out a blood-curdling scream. The thorns of the rose were ripping her hands apart, a deadly poison seeping into her blood. She fell to the ground, hand open loosely. The snow-white rose lay beside it, spattered red. A single tear rolled down her cheek, for she knew ‘twas love that killed her.

Lovely! Really well written, I can't wait to see what else you come up with. Please keep writing

Okay! Maybe I will. I love writing, especially free writing. It's like...once I start writing I don't have to stop and think a lot. It just comes to me.