Rejected Scenes in my Story

Published by AdDIct in the blog AdDIct's blog. Views: 290

Hi all. So this is my first blog entry. So yeah. This is my dump for all things "Rejected" well. Minus full chapters. Cause that'd probably get a bit much (though I probably will take exerpts from them). I thought it would be cool to have this because everyone has parts that they sorta liked but didn't like enough so they cut. But then later you're like "what was that one thing I deleted?" Cause it was sort of relevant in a character personality kind of way. Anyway. Here they are. Rejected Scenes:

1) Bike Porn (Cut from Chapter: "1")

The following excerpt is not porn. And does not involve sex on said object. It just reads REALLY sexually. Replace the bike with a person and it's kind of steamy. So I deleted it. Cause I don't want to be known as the bike fucker.

Ozzie let out a puff of sea rich air, the anxious knot in his stomach fading as he began to ride. There was something soothing in the action. For Ozzie, the simple but repetitive movement of circling feet to circling calves to circling thighs to sinuously tight muscles set him free. The slow burn as his body curved itself over the seat and handlebars; it made him forget, at least for a little while.

2) Meet Toni and James (Excerpt from Ver 3. of Chapter 1)

So this is from the version of this story directly before the current one. This version was written in present tense. Anyway yeah. How Toni and James were not quite originally written. (Especially since Toni was originally Tony who is now Clint in this current version). Toni's character is particularly hard to write. She's a balance between old and full of wisdom but youthful as well. I felt especially in this version that she came across as more like a sister than an actual guardian towards Ozzie. This is such a blast from the past.

“Toni,” James says as he strides into the bookstore, “I’m borrowing Ozzie.”
Toni looks up, uncrossing her legs and tossing the newspaper resting between her manicured fingers carelessly onto the counter beside her. She drums her hand against the glass top, a hand on her hip and a slim smirk on the bow of her lips. “And what if I say no?”
“You won’t,” James is grinning, barely contained excitement rolling off of him in waves. She can see it dancing in bright Technicolor pink between the shifts of his feet and feel it beneath the steady, fast staccato beat of his pulse just under the surface of his skin.
Toni pops her jaw, her tongue running over one of her suddenly aching incisors and walks behind the counter, a rich heady aroma unrelated to the books stacked in neat wooden shelves around them wafting into the air as she props her head in her right hand. "And dare say, darling, why would I say yes?” She idly clicks open the cash register’s drawer.
“Because,” James leans across the display, “I got Ozzie an audition.”
Toni blinks and looks up sharply at that, “You what?!” She hisses. She has to bite back the groan building in the back of her throat, “He’s never going to say yes.”
“Which is why I’m not going to tell him. Where we’re going that is.”
“That—” Toni pinches her forehead between two of her chocolate toned fingers, “Sounds like a stupendously stupid idea.”
“How else do you plan on getting him to come?” He laughs, “Besides weren’t you complaining about him not doing anything but working here at the bookstore?" James frowns. "He’s not even going to school anymore.”
Toni can feel the headache growing, throbbing between the space behind her eyes, and she purses her lips. She sighs. "He's nineteen James, he can do what he wants."
“I know!" James winces and starts again, "Sorry. It's just. I know that. I know he’s going through a hard time right now and—god,” James makes a noncommittal noise, pulling at his raven curls, “he’s my best friend you know? I want to help him, its sucks to see him like this. Like, really sucks, besides,” he says, eyes straying towards the gaudy emerald ring on his left pinky, “I get what he’s going through.”
Toni furrows her brow. “Fine,” she says sourly, curling a finger around one of the shifting blue-red strands of emotion coiling around his body. Toni picks up the newspaper, snapping it back up with a deft flick of her wrist and sits back down on the stool behind her, “take him," she says from behind her paper curtain, "just don’t say I didn’t warn you honey.”
James beams, the sickly sweet honey-like aroma Toni’s come to equate solely as James billowing through the air. “You’re a saint, Toni.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she drawls, voice slightly muffled by the newspaper, “A saint is much too vanilla for my tastes. Consider me your queen,” she folds down the top of the newspaper as she turns the page, “you’re obviously my bitch.”

3) Meet Ozzie and James (From Ver 2)

Okay so this is a version of the start of the story that will probably actually make a reappearance at some point as an explanatory chapter and some good old fashioned flashback. So I guess it's not really rejected so much as it is set on the back burner. I really enjoyed writing this bit, but decided that it would make the actual plot take too long to start for my liking. (Note Ozzie and James are about 3 years younger in this version)

It was August. Late in the month and hot. A time where the edges of summer and fall met, blurring together like the shimmering surface of a desert’s heat. The colors seemed to vibrate in anticipation of the coming season, waiting to explode in a flurry of reds and oranges and vibrant yellows. Already the grass was turning a warm honey gold and the leaves were tinging just the slightest bit red.
Ozzie brought the joint back up to his lips, inhaling slowly and seeing the faint copper glow light up the tip. He held it for a beat, feeling the smoke slip smoothly down into his lungs before exhaling and passing it on. He grinned. That was good stuff. His body slumped back against the balcony wall.
The smoke curled in the air, dipping upwards between his pursed lips. It was James’ idea to do this, sporting a fresh new tan and bag full of weed courtesy of his stint in Los Angeles. His most recent film had just finished shooting and he’d decided what the heck, let’s pay Ozzie a visit. Ozzie vaguely remembered James saying something about this being the last week of Ozzie’s summer vacation and to take proper advantage of it as he’d sauntered into his room and flopped--fell--onto Ozzie’s bed.
James’ body was a long strip of sluggish arms and uncoordinated feet so Ozzie couldn’t really say he’d been surprised when his friend had tripped during the two step journey across the room. Classic James. Able to make teenage girls swoon without a word in a movie but barely able to cross a street on his own in real life.
Still Ozzie wouldn't complain. He wouldn't. In all honesty it was one of the few things that still made him smile. It wasn’t really like James had any other reason to come back to their boring middle of nowhere town in Northern California except for him. The thought made him grin even more dopily.
It’d been awhile since he’d been able to do this. Relax. He felt loose-limbed and content and something else, something close to happy.
James took a hit. His cheeks dimpled and his eyes crossed a bit as he tried looking at the joint between his fingers. His brow wrinkled. Ozzie wanted to reach over and smooth his hand across it. No one should look so serious when they were getting high. Even he was grinning. James breathed out and chuckled in Ozzie’s direction, his ebony curls bouncing with the movement.
James tilted his head to the side.
“Wa’s so funny?” Ozzie slurred.
James grinned. “Your face,” he drawled, voice slow and low and even. It reminded Ozzie of someone thinking really hard about what they were going to say next. And not in a I’m-thinking-of-the-most-diplomatic-response kind of way but in a legitimate sort of I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-trying-to-say-so-let’s-just-say-it-real-slow-like-so-they-won’t-notice kind of way. James handed the joint back to Ozzie. “You look like you need to take a shit.”
“Ay,” Ozzie took back the joint and gave his friend the finger. His cheeks hollowed as he blew a smoke ring in his friend’s face, “fuck you man.”
James held his hands up in surrender. “What?! You do!”
“Yeah?” Ozzie rolled his eyes and took another hit from the joint before slouching back against the wall, “well whatever.” He looked down at the joint between his fingers. The end was burning dangerously close to his fingertips. “You gonna finish this? Or…?” He left the question hanging in the air.
“Nah, you can,” James said with a wave of his hand, “I can get more back in L.A.”
Ozzie snorted, “fuckin’ movie star.”
“Don’t hate just ‘cause you’re jealous man.”
Ozzie took one last long hit from the joint and stubbed it out on the ground beside him. He brushed his hair out of his face, the stringy black locks moving across his forehead and out of his honey coloured eyes. He raised an eyebrow in James’ direction, leveling him with his most deadpan look.
“What?” James blinked, “don’t give me that look.”
The corners of Ozzie’s lips twitched upwards and he rubbed his thumb across them, like the action could somehow hide the grin growing there. His stubble felt rough against his finger. Sighing, he slid down to the balcony floor, his hair fanning out around his face. His arms mirrored the movement.
“So,” James cleared his throat, expression suddenly serious, “how was school this semester?”
Ozzie tensed. “Fine.” He shrugged.
James turned to fully face him. “You know if people are giving you hard time again—”
“Things’re okay, ‘kay?” Ozzie flipped onto his side, lips pulling together in a taut line, “you don’t need to worry about me.”
James frowned. “I know, but after last year—”
“It’s done okay?!” Ozzie bit out, “My dad helped me through it, explained some stuff to me, and Sam’s been a real help with the whole low self-esteem thing. Just drop it.”
James opened and closed his mouth before nodding and running a hand through his hair. “Okay...” he said, “just know I got you okay? If you need it? Even when I’m in L.A. I’m just a call away.”
“I know,” Ozzie hugged his knees to his chest. A pause, “M’ sorry.” He mumbled.
“It’s ‘kay,” he scooted closer to Ozzie and wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulder. “What’re friends for huh?”
This, Ozzie couldn’t help but think. It would be so easy to just tell James the truth. Especially in this moment, with the sun setting and the last of the summer heat dissipating into fall. All of his feelings low and calm and mellow.

4) Murder of a really unfortunate virgin (Prologue Ver. 1)

So this scene was from the original prologue. Now I'ts just cut entirely and saved less as something to read but a reference to the scenes that mention this moment. I just really didn't like how it read so yeah. Gone Poof.

Shnksh! The knife slices across Jonathan Burtrans chest with a slick, wet sound. He gasps, stumbling back a few surprised steps as blood, crimson and warm, spreads between his gloved fingers.
“Who’s there?!” He calls, hissing in pain while sticking a leather clad finger in his mouth. Thmp! Thmp! Thmp! Thmp! His pupils dilate. A soft moan escapes his lips as the salty taste of blood hits his tongue. It settles deep in his bones. Craving mixing with desire. It’s a heat in the pit of his stomach. It coils. It rages. It tenses.
The beast clambers for more.
Distantly he hears the high metallic ring of the blade as it clangs against one of the metal candelabra’s surrounding the altar but he shoves the sound aside, focusing past it as the blood enters his system. Thmp! Thmp! Thmp! Thmp! He feels his muscles tensing, his pulse rising, his vision and hearing sharpening to vivid clarity— Jonathan licks his lips, the heartbeat in his ears steady and dripping with life.
He wants it. Oh how he wants it. Wants it like he may die without it. An evil grin lights his features; one that seems eerily predatory and shark like, with menacing eyes and jagged teeth. Snakelike slits now devoid of any human emotion peer into the darkness, daring his shrouded adversary to come closer. The candles flicker around him, their light having dimmed in the wake of the ritual’s interruption and Jonathan pulls the hood away from his face.
It’s startling, his countenance, bald and eerily pale to the point of translucence. His gums are cracked and bleeding and his eyes glow in time with the flames as drops of blood drip from the creases of his fingers to the floor. Thmp! Thmp! Thmp! Thmp!
“Who’s there?!” He calls again into the subdued darkness. He feels no fear. He’d be foolish to fear the wrath of human. And if it happens to be a pair of young Locusts full of noble dreams and crippling morality—jumping twixt his rafters in the dead of night—well…
Jonathan laughs darkly, his robe bunching haphazardly around the soles of his feet. He takes a step back and feels the moment he crosses back into the circle. The ground is rough and uneven, tile giving way to dirt and gravel. His stomach drops; his vision blurs. It’s a sick sense of relief and a warped stirring in the air; a taste like bitter caramel and over-ripe fruit. Immediately the candles begin to glow a diseased green. Their light flares up to touch the dilapidated ceiling of the “chapel”.

And that's all I'll share for now. I mean. If anyone reads this apologies lol. Probably most of this won't make much sense, but hopefully you'll get some enjoyment from it.
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