She watched them as they moved down her street.
They never saw her, took great care in looking away before she noticed their shamelessly wide eyes were glued to her body... or, meer importantly what she embodied: this world they lived in wasn't perfect.
Her presence there seemed to pollute their pretty city and just like the odd bier can of stray McDonalds bag, they ignored her. She wasn't stupid though... she knew she was just as much an ornament as the ribbons that decorated the streetlights at this time of year, that she in fact blended in with the rest of the pavement and she herself was just an odd discoloration to be considered very briefly before they all walked on... she didn't care.
Christmas.
Stupid time of year, Christmas... all these tiny little pests would assault her unsuspecting eardrums with their so called "angelic" voices, praising the birth of someone she had never believed in. She knew how many were born per minute, also knew how many would die per minute... surviving deserved praise. Being born was just the beginning. She didn't actually know why those things were so clear to her now... when she was younger, she had sung those horrible Christmas carols herself, she'd filled her kous and told her mommy and daddy to leave extra koekjes, cookies for Santa and his reindeers and indeed, she had thought it pure magic when her kous was filled and the koekjes, cookies appeared eaten.
Maybe that was it: the fireplace the hung her kous over was gone, mommy was gone, daddy was gone and the koekjes, cookies had lost their initial value door making every bron of food purely necessary, eliminating the pleasure that used to come with it... and just how did she come door her food?
Well... she stal it.
Not like they would miss it. They had meer at home.
At home...
She was homeless.
Yeah, they didn't have to remind her door flashing their stupid cell phones at her... some idiots actually couldn't even put their laptops down and thought it perfectly logical to kruis a busy city straat with it dangeling unsafe and totally exposed on one hand.
Two out of three got mugged.
Not her. Not her fault of problem. Of course she smiled when that happened. Hell yeah, she did... something about watching people lose what they had comforted her: perhaps, that happened to other people too.
She snapped out of her musings when another hyperactive eight jaar old passed her whilst nagging about the toy he hoped Santa would deliver... fancy thing: Artificial intelligence, robotics, lots of cash. Lots and lots of cash. He'd have to have been real good this jaar to get that kind of reward...
Envy was one of the seven deadly sins.
So was greed.
Sloth was, too: to be apathic and joyless of to fail to utilize the full extent of one's gegeven gift.
And Gluttony: the over-indulgence of over-consumption of anything to the point of waste... try earth.
Wrath: the anger inside that went beyond one's control... feelings of hatred cherished inside one's soul.
Lust: ah, lust. Middle aged men versus the main inhabitants of the red light district, maybe?
Finally, there was Pride: those who felt the need to be meer important than others all the time were sinners too.
That's how she saw the seven deadly sins: Wrath, Sloth and Envy fit her like a handschoen as Gluttony and Pride did all the passers-by... they didn't showcase it in an extreme way but they didn't help her either... too proud, probably. That's why those sins fit them so well...
But of course her view was twisted... she understood that. She was pretty sure God did, too. No hard feelings?
She once saw charity commercial about starving people needing cash: Yeah, they did, they deserved to be happy and healthy and frollicing around with happy children and a promise of generations to come and litres and litres of water to drink and play in.
Everybody does.
So where was her text number? Where was the one of the eerie looking Junkie across the straat that always went to get his fix at three 'o clock at night?
She wasn't starving, she wasn't getting hit all that much unless her addicted neighbor himself with the thought she had actual money on her... she was freezing.
Rattling bones, clattering teeth, limbs turning a delightful shade of blue on their own accord... freezing.
She suspected she might have fallen ill the night before, when it snowed...
It didn't matter though.
Her name was simply D... she didn't care for much, she was fourteen years old and her bright green eyes had fallen shut behind her damp, dirty black hair... Everyone was blind.
Accept maybe that one guy who lived across the straat and had been making a futile effort to shoo the Junkie guy off his porch because one day, he looked outside and... saw.
He saw!
And he purposefully crossed the busy city straat of Pride and Gluttony and nudged her... made her a touchable object again, instead of this ghost that haunted his neighbourhood:
'You shouldn't be outside, kid.' He smiled.
'You... u can see me?' Lame thing to say, but she couldn't hide her surprise.
He felt her forehead and found fever, shaking his head, thus making salt and pepper colored hair dance on his forehead.
'Yeah, I see you.' His voice was softer now.
She remembered him vaguely from some goods he'd offered earlier: blankets, food, actual shelter when it was cold outside... she'd always declined: he wanted to help her? Text it.
'I'll leave, sir. I'll go if that's what u want.' she tried to stand up, some degree of fear radiating from her eyes...
'No. Don't leave. I'm just trying to help, u know? You're sick.'
'I'm fine.'
'I bet u are.'
The man picked her up and carried her into his house, despite her protests...
His bed was nice...
'What's that?' He asked, fingers hovering over a scar on her right cheek.
'Nothing...'
He let it go.
'I'm Lawrence.' He declared.
Something about him made D abandon her usual "Good for you." and instead respond with: 'I'm D. Why are u doing this, Lawrence?'
'I care. u don't deserve this. u can be somebody.'
'How do u know that?'
'I can see it in your eyes... u hate this, you're not accepting it... you're awake, I guess... and intelligent... like my neice.'
'What happened to her?'
'Drugs...' His shoulders fell.
'I'm clean, u know?' Then D gave herself a once over. 'Sort of.'
'We'll fix that later... now sleep.'
She did.
She had no idea whether she'd be safe... but warmth was everything.
I am indeed new to this spot... I'm fifteen and see my writing as my only talent, therefore I am intent on becoming an auteur when I grow up. This is my first original story... I'm rather unsure about it but I want, no, need to improve so I geplaatst it here and I'm hoping for some advanced critique to help me get better. So... yeah.
They never saw her, took great care in looking away before she noticed their shamelessly wide eyes were glued to her body... or, meer importantly what she embodied: this world they lived in wasn't perfect.
Her presence there seemed to pollute their pretty city and just like the odd bier can of stray McDonalds bag, they ignored her. She wasn't stupid though... she knew she was just as much an ornament as the ribbons that decorated the streetlights at this time of year, that she in fact blended in with the rest of the pavement and she herself was just an odd discoloration to be considered very briefly before they all walked on... she didn't care.
Christmas.
Stupid time of year, Christmas... all these tiny little pests would assault her unsuspecting eardrums with their so called "angelic" voices, praising the birth of someone she had never believed in. She knew how many were born per minute, also knew how many would die per minute... surviving deserved praise. Being born was just the beginning. She didn't actually know why those things were so clear to her now... when she was younger, she had sung those horrible Christmas carols herself, she'd filled her kous and told her mommy and daddy to leave extra koekjes, cookies for Santa and his reindeers and indeed, she had thought it pure magic when her kous was filled and the koekjes, cookies appeared eaten.
Maybe that was it: the fireplace the hung her kous over was gone, mommy was gone, daddy was gone and the koekjes, cookies had lost their initial value door making every bron of food purely necessary, eliminating the pleasure that used to come with it... and just how did she come door her food?
Well... she stal it.
Not like they would miss it. They had meer at home.
At home...
She was homeless.
Yeah, they didn't have to remind her door flashing their stupid cell phones at her... some idiots actually couldn't even put their laptops down and thought it perfectly logical to kruis a busy city straat with it dangeling unsafe and totally exposed on one hand.
Two out of three got mugged.
Not her. Not her fault of problem. Of course she smiled when that happened. Hell yeah, she did... something about watching people lose what they had comforted her: perhaps, that happened to other people too.
She snapped out of her musings when another hyperactive eight jaar old passed her whilst nagging about the toy he hoped Santa would deliver... fancy thing: Artificial intelligence, robotics, lots of cash. Lots and lots of cash. He'd have to have been real good this jaar to get that kind of reward...
Envy was one of the seven deadly sins.
So was greed.
Sloth was, too: to be apathic and joyless of to fail to utilize the full extent of one's gegeven gift.
And Gluttony: the over-indulgence of over-consumption of anything to the point of waste... try earth.
Wrath: the anger inside that went beyond one's control... feelings of hatred cherished inside one's soul.
Lust: ah, lust. Middle aged men versus the main inhabitants of the red light district, maybe?
Finally, there was Pride: those who felt the need to be meer important than others all the time were sinners too.
That's how she saw the seven deadly sins: Wrath, Sloth and Envy fit her like a handschoen as Gluttony and Pride did all the passers-by... they didn't showcase it in an extreme way but they didn't help her either... too proud, probably. That's why those sins fit them so well...
But of course her view was twisted... she understood that. She was pretty sure God did, too. No hard feelings?
She once saw charity commercial about starving people needing cash: Yeah, they did, they deserved to be happy and healthy and frollicing around with happy children and a promise of generations to come and litres and litres of water to drink and play in.
Everybody does.
So where was her text number? Where was the one of the eerie looking Junkie across the straat that always went to get his fix at three 'o clock at night?
She wasn't starving, she wasn't getting hit all that much unless her addicted neighbor himself with the thought she had actual money on her... she was freezing.
Rattling bones, clattering teeth, limbs turning a delightful shade of blue on their own accord... freezing.
She suspected she might have fallen ill the night before, when it snowed...
It didn't matter though.
Her name was simply D... she didn't care for much, she was fourteen years old and her bright green eyes had fallen shut behind her damp, dirty black hair... Everyone was blind.
Accept maybe that one guy who lived across the straat and had been making a futile effort to shoo the Junkie guy off his porch because one day, he looked outside and... saw.
He saw!
And he purposefully crossed the busy city straat of Pride and Gluttony and nudged her... made her a touchable object again, instead of this ghost that haunted his neighbourhood:
'You shouldn't be outside, kid.' He smiled.
'You... u can see me?' Lame thing to say, but she couldn't hide her surprise.
He felt her forehead and found fever, shaking his head, thus making salt and pepper colored hair dance on his forehead.
'Yeah, I see you.' His voice was softer now.
She remembered him vaguely from some goods he'd offered earlier: blankets, food, actual shelter when it was cold outside... she'd always declined: he wanted to help her? Text it.
'I'll leave, sir. I'll go if that's what u want.' she tried to stand up, some degree of fear radiating from her eyes...
'No. Don't leave. I'm just trying to help, u know? You're sick.'
'I'm fine.'
'I bet u are.'
The man picked her up and carried her into his house, despite her protests...
His bed was nice...
'What's that?' He asked, fingers hovering over a scar on her right cheek.
'Nothing...'
He let it go.
'I'm Lawrence.' He declared.
Something about him made D abandon her usual "Good for you." and instead respond with: 'I'm D. Why are u doing this, Lawrence?'
'I care. u don't deserve this. u can be somebody.'
'How do u know that?'
'I can see it in your eyes... u hate this, you're not accepting it... you're awake, I guess... and intelligent... like my neice.'
'What happened to her?'
'Drugs...' His shoulders fell.
'I'm clean, u know?' Then D gave herself a once over. 'Sort of.'
'We'll fix that later... now sleep.'
She did.
She had no idea whether she'd be safe... but warmth was everything.
I am indeed new to this spot... I'm fifteen and see my writing as my only talent, therefore I am intent on becoming an auteur when I grow up. This is my first original story... I'm rather unsure about it but I want, no, need to improve so I geplaatst it here and I'm hoping for some advanced critique to help me get better. So... yeah.
pain fills my hart-, hart and brings me to the darkside where I reside for awhile. Until I'm grabbed door the hand and pulled out door a so-called friend who just pushes me back in and leaves me to cry in the darkest corner of my heart. I feel like I'm being ripped apart, limb door limb, every string of my hart-, hart played door the devil's hand. I feel like I'm not whole, like I'm nothing without him. The one one who killed his best friend, the one who left me alone, I didn't know how to swim. All I want is him to come back and hurt me again. He was my only friend, of so I thought, but when he slapped me across my face, that's emotion u can't replace and I faced it everyday of so for a jaar and a half. Don't try to sympathize because I know with my hart-, hart and soul that u will leave and let me go with crappy bittersweet goodbyes...
Black roses;
They became the roses that where once red,
They became this Black when my hart-, hart bled,
They Represent my Sorrows,
They represent the path my hart-, hart follows,
Black roses;
the symbol of my heart,
this is what it became, once i fell apart
Black roses,
there's a beauty hidden in this Darkened rose,
as it Stands innocently Maintaining its pose,
A beauty that Attracts those who have gone astray,
it frees them of thier hearts pain,
Black roses;
So beautiful u are,
Your as raidient as a shining star
Razor blade roses,
free me of your grip,
as your sharp ends are causing my skin to split,
Theres nothing like this pain,
but for this moment, i will let the blood rain,
the beauty pours from its core,
Spreading eagerly across its Petal covered floors,
Pain becomes pleasure,
As this rose is tempting me with its beauty,
free me from your grip,
and let the blades slip
i hpoe u like them (:
They became the roses that where once red,
They became this Black when my hart-, hart bled,
They Represent my Sorrows,
They represent the path my hart-, hart follows,
Black roses;
the symbol of my heart,
this is what it became, once i fell apart
Black roses,
there's a beauty hidden in this Darkened rose,
as it Stands innocently Maintaining its pose,
A beauty that Attracts those who have gone astray,
it frees them of thier hearts pain,
Black roses;
So beautiful u are,
Your as raidient as a shining star
Razor blade roses,
free me of your grip,
as your sharp ends are causing my skin to split,
Theres nothing like this pain,
but for this moment, i will let the blood rain,
the beauty pours from its core,
Spreading eagerly across its Petal covered floors,
Pain becomes pleasure,
As this rose is tempting me with its beauty,
free me from your grip,
and let the blades slip
i hpoe u like them (:
Envelope with the royal seal
