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Literature Text
“I’m sorry.”
The words barely register; she’s already slumped against the tree and clutching her elbows with bone-white fingers. Something cracks in her left arm, but the pain won’t come until much, much later. Her breath catches, falters, ceases for longer than she would have believed possible, until her vision dims and she sucks in a rush of air that triggers the tears already threatening the corners of her eyes. She should have expected this, of course.
The moon, obscured by fog, casts little light on the deserted park, and her stomach lurches when she realizes that she won’t even have a clear memory of his face. She fumbles for her lighter, feigning the need for a cigarette, and tries to light one. Her hand shakes and she gives up on the fourth attempt.
“I didn’t mean—It would have been better if you’d stood me up.”
“You know I couldn’t.”
Her voice, hollow but perfectly audible, startles them both. He watches her for awhile, and she cannot tell whether he’s trying to set her image in his mind or just waiting for her to start screaming. When she thinks she might be able to hold herself together, he steps forward and draws her into a hug.
“Don’t die,” she orders him. Even in the dark she knows he’s smiling.
Two years. Probably more. She watches him go, torn between anger and heartbreak, until he turns and offers one final comfort.
“You deserve better than you give yourself. Take care.”
It is only after he has vanished that she allows herself to fall apart.
The words barely register; she’s already slumped against the tree and clutching her elbows with bone-white fingers. Something cracks in her left arm, but the pain won’t come until much, much later. Her breath catches, falters, ceases for longer than she would have believed possible, until her vision dims and she sucks in a rush of air that triggers the tears already threatening the corners of her eyes. She should have expected this, of course.
The moon, obscured by fog, casts little light on the deserted park, and her stomach lurches when she realizes that she won’t even have a clear memory of his face. She fumbles for her lighter, feigning the need for a cigarette, and tries to light one. Her hand shakes and she gives up on the fourth attempt.
“I didn’t mean—It would have been better if you’d stood me up.”
“You know I couldn’t.”
Her voice, hollow but perfectly audible, startles them both. He watches her for awhile, and she cannot tell whether he’s trying to set her image in his mind or just waiting for her to start screaming. When she thinks she might be able to hold herself together, he steps forward and draws her into a hug.
“Don’t die,” she orders him. Even in the dark she knows he’s smiling.
Two years. Probably more. She watches him go, torn between anger and heartbreak, until he turns and offers one final comfort.
“You deserve better than you give yourself. Take care.”
It is only after he has vanished that she allows herself to fall apart.
Literature
I woke up
July 10, 2000
I woke up
after passing out
after smoking up
after coming down
from the wa-wa sound
induced by nitrous filled punch balloons
I woke up
after snorting lines of ketamine
coupled with hits of acid and ecstasy
I woke up
after seven people died
from shooting heroin into their veins
I woke up
in a folding camp chair
with a hand wrapped around
a bag of weed
stuffed in my pocket
to a booming voice
telling me I was going to jail.
and I thanked god when they put on the cuffs
that I was one of the lucky ones that woke up.
Literature
Spasm
Two paper hands
held together
with glue and wooden bones.
meant to be.
Instead of capturing
my heart, you captured
my lungs
and every stuttered breath
along with it.
You didn't have
to knock my head off
it contorted and
fell off on its own.
Literature
letter clutter
Dear you-
Can I ask you a question? Just one. Are you always so scattered and detached, or is just the sounds of the violin door hinges that make it seem like you still have not found that forever-missing sock and so instead are letting your bare foot go cold.
Am I always so curious that I need an answer to every question that is unrelated to my personal life and all the cross sections or do I just find knowing how to solve a Rubik's cube strangely satisfying.
I need your opinion about something. Do you think if I carry on making stars with every footstep I take, someone might find them, and follow them to the moon, even though I am still
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written for my fiction writing class tonight under the prompt "your worst fear realised." placed under fiction cos, well, this has not happened yet.
i would be interested to know what you think happened in this scene. please, do give me your interpretations.
i would be interested to know what you think happened in this scene. please, do give me your interpretations.
© 2009 - 2024 ravenofroses
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I think she's dying...and right before she dies is talking to the person who killed her?
I'm not sure...my brain is all weird right now. It was very good! I liked it a lot, and the fact that it was short made it better.
I'm not sure...my brain is all weird right now. It was very good! I liked it a lot, and the fact that it was short made it better.