Posts : 4586
Join date : 2010-03-03
Age : 16
Location : *lights up a fire* yeah, trying to surivve in a fores.t *smokse a cig* il kill you
|Subject: Mai sisters's story part 2 Wed Mar 31, 2010 5:18 pm|| |
Chapter 9: September
Fall hasn’t set in yet. Instead, the world has succumbed to an in between state where the heat meets the crispness, the wind feels the dryness, and everything feels fine. Every day at dawn, I go to the roof and think. However, one morning, when the world had smiled unto me and I felt perfect, I opened my eyes to find a plant growing next to me. I had this instinct, stared at it, and I became the world then, my mind opened up to another state altogether, and the flower grew. Because I ordered it to. Just like that, my destiny changed.
Once, I learned about fulcrums and pivots and things, and now I realize life is like that. Everything you do, everything you smile or pout at, you change the world. A little part of the universe has just become yours, by reading these pages. The more knowledge you have, the more breathtaking moments you have, the more universe you control. So every day, i would grow a flower. And the world would be that much better.
I was waiting for the bus to come at the bus stop, when a bespectacled girl behind me looked at me with hate. I don’t know why. This girl was Willow, a freckled, mousy haired youth that is barely noticeable. But once you do, she enters your mind and stays there. I saw more of these, looks made of an emotion not quite hate, but sort of like that. Everywhere. I want to go over, as why, but I’m not the kind of person who would do that. SO I just wonder.
In english, we write poetry. Adelaide is really good at it. I just get it done with, make sure it rhymes, make sure it doesn’t mean anything. That’s what I do.
One day I was walking home, care-free and happy, when by accident I found myself in an abandoned playground. Oh, how I should have left. But I didn’t. There was something strange about this place, a weird sort of presence. Children used to play here, I thought. Children used to swing on the swings and on balance on the see-saw. Now there was nothing, just rust and dirt and abandonment. It was uncanny, being here all alone. What had happened to the kids? I heard a creaking noise behind me, and turned around.
There! On the swings! It is hard to call it a being, something that exists, it was hard to call it something other than a trick of the light, but at the same time just too easy to call it matter. It was like smoke, or shadows, or the silence before a storm. Sometimes light would break trough... whatever it was, and it would appear to fly. I walked closer.
“Caoimhe?” (KWEE-va) It asked, his voice like the wind. “Is that you?”
“No, I’m Josie” I turned around. “Goodbye” There was a little pang of insecurity as I turned around, almost melancholic, as if I had caught the sadness in it’s voice and wanted to comfort it.. I ran away as fast as I could. But that didn’t prevent the boy from returning in my dreams, and when I went to the roof at dawn, he kept swarming my thoughts.
“What are you?” I asked, my voice thin like a thread, but sharp as a needle.
“What would be correct, tough I used to be a who,” He said. I wish I knew what he looked like, so I would not feel as crazy. I wished he looked human. “My name is Lorne. I am not from here, and neither are you,”
An ordinary person would call the closest mental asylum and got w hoever this was locked up, but I, having missed a portion of my life, hesitated. I was the kind of person who observes from the sidelines, who sees the fine details that most people miss. Consequentially, that part of a person’s conscience that motivates people to take action was strangely silent.
A week went by without me seeing the strange thing again. I went to school every day, and gradually the mental turmoil in my head quieted and I resumed my position as the dutiful observer. In these days of confusion, however, I noticed (however paradoxically) a few things I hadn’t before. For one, the penetrating stares of Willow gained weight and sharpness, and i felt threatened and small.
Hannah seemed less happy, somehow, the tell-tale signs of sadness becoming permanently ingrained on her face. Adelaide seemed a little less perfect, minor flaws building up. But then my head quieted and I dismissed these thoughts as those of someone with eyes flawed under stress and confusion.