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Literature Text
Laura walked down the hall, her eyes firmly set on her glow-in-the-dark shoes. Of course, it was impossible to tell they were glow-in-the-dark, what with all the lights, but she thought perhaps it was for the best. It meant that the students milling around her would not know. It was like a secret, a secret only she knew. Secrets were extra special that way.
Except they're not, whispered a voice in her head. Secrets are meant to be shared with somebody--not a lot of people, but somebody. If you keep them to yourself, they're not fun. They're lonely.
She frowned, still staring at her feet. One in front of the other, she moved quickly down the hall, dodging her schoolmates without any conscious thought. She was good at this.
Lonely secrets, she thought. What does one do with a lonely secret?
Except they're not, whispered a voice in her head. Secrets are meant to be shared with somebody--not a lot of people, but somebody. If you keep them to yourself, they're not fun. They're lonely.
She frowned, still staring at her feet. One in front of the other, she moved quickly down the hall, dodging her schoolmates without any conscious thought. She was good at this.
Lonely secrets, she thought. What does one do with a lonely secret?
Literature
Imaginary
"My imaginary father beat me again." Charlie my six year old son complained as he stared up at me from the doorway into his darkened room. He stepped in and carefully closed the door without turning on the light. The evening's setting sun sifted through the closed blinds, but anything brighter than that hurt Charlie's eyes.
"Then stop imagining. I can't stand to see the bruises." I answered. "Plus they'll hurt if I hug you."
The little boy nodded and screwed his eyes tightly shut as he strained himself to un-imagine the damage. The blue-black-grey-purple paste of bruises mottling his arms and legs slowly faded. "There, daddy. All b
Literature
Jill and Jack
When Jack sees Jill walking alone in the hall, he can't help but wonder if she's that way on her own, or if people just forget she's there sometimes. Maybe she's just eccentric enough that it causes her to fade into the back-drop and be forgotten from time to time.
And when Jill sees Jack talking with the girl who lives a couple streets over, well, she bumps into her friend Reality and realizes that love is not a thing for girls who tumble down hills like tree branches.
Jill likes to make up excuses for the crescents underneath her gray eyes; 'Last night I couldn't get to sleep because I had a headache.' Or, 'I'm just not wearing make-up to
Literature
Floccinaucinihilipilification:
for the record, i
lusted you
only for the
contents of your pants, not the
contents of your heart.
i realise this
now, of course,
and realised how
useless the
contents of either are, when
i'm nowhere near them,
nowhere near you.
i have no use for you
have no use for me.
i see no point in
lusting after a ghost;
i see no point in
picking dead flowers;
i see no point in
flying on a broken plane;
i see no point in
calling you without your number.
and what hurts the most is
that i wasted nine months on you.
i might as well have been pregnant,
or pregnant with a three-season disease
named after the first words you spoke
:
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I was supposed to be working on my novel, and this came out instead. I'll probably be able to sneak it into one of the opening scenes of the story, but until National Novel Editing Month, that ain't happening. Anyway, I hope you like it, even though it's super short.
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