|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Feb 25, 2005 5:55 pm
these wretched thoughts follow me forever i can never get rid of them
Quote: Welcome to the portfolio of the Lonely Butterfly. ^_^ As you know, this thread will be dedicated to my writing. Yay! A whole thread all for me. Anyhow. I'm excited to have joined this guild, as I find it hard to find people to really read what I write and give actual criticism.
In the coming years, I plan to major in Creative Writing in school, and maybe even publish the book I've been working on for seven years... That's my big dream right now. I can't wait to see what you all have to say about my writing, and I can't wait to read your own.
A brief warning: Many of my stories and poems contain things that may be offensive to other readers. (ie: homosexuality, abuse, suicide, language, some sexual situations) However, no open-mind should be offended in the reading of any of my writing. I don't write smut, but I do like to keep my stories realistic--therefore, things like swearing, for example, are possibilities. Thank you.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 25, 2005 6:02 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 25, 2005 6:33 pm
Wont to Want
Dear God,
We never meant to hurt anyone. We just wanted to be together, to be happy. Can't you understand that? We were in love. I know that we sinned... that we must be punished... but, God, don't punish Tneme for my lust. Take me in his place--I don't want him to suffer. I'll go to hell in his place. I will eat his sins and die for him, but if you take him, I will never forgive you.
We were in love... We are in love, and we always will be. I don't care what other people say, it is you who must judge us, not them. Do not punish us for loving. We are sorry, but we do not regret it... we won't take it back.
Rory
* * *
I was young when I first found out. I was fifteen... So many people say that it's impossible for someone so young to fall in love. They're wrong--it doesn't matter how old you are. Everyone has a match... it just takes some people longer than others to find that one true love. It may sound corny, but it's true. For me, it took fifteen years. Fifteen years of knowing him, and being around him to know that I loved him.
No...
Fifteen years to realize that the love I held for him was different than I thought. Fifteen years to realize that he was the one.
We were at the movies when I first realized it. He'd just turned twenty, so he could take me into R-rated movies without getting the "you-can't-take-him-in-there-without-a-parent" speech. (Thank God for that...) He took me to see some dirty movie... I don't remember what it was called. I could tell it had an effect on him--he loved girls. He teased me when I blushed. I liked that. I loved that he teased me. Maybe it was just lust at first, but I played like I didn't like it so he'd keep going. (That's called reverse psychology, I guess. It works.)
"You're showing," he'd say, and I'd look at him like I didn't know what he was talking about. He'd reach between his legs, then, and grin at me. I'd blush and look away, covering myself with my hands... pretending they were his. That didn't help at all, but I liked it.
By the time the movie got out, it hurt for both of us to walk, and both of us for different reasons: He was fantasizing about that blonde girl from the movie, and I was fantasizing about him.
I got to stay at his place that night... His dorm was black. He said it attracted girls. His bed was huge. (Three guesses why...) It was only two twin beds pushed together, though, with king-size sheets. I grinned, because none of them matched. The fitted sheet was white, and the other sheet was blue. (I could tell because his bed was unmade...) The blanket was black. It turned me on... I don't know why. He'd three pillows... one with a zebra case (who knows where he got it). Another had a naked picture of Paris Hilton on it, and the last one didn't even have a case.
His computer was on. I remember thinking that he probably had a lot of porn on it. I'd never watched porn before, but he had-Tneme loved it. The screen saver was funny, though... I liked watching the dog poop all over the place and tear things apart. I didn't look around much before I saw him undress. He sprawled out on his bed, and pulled the sheets up. "You sleepin' on the floor?" he asked.
I shook my head, and took off my own clothes. I crawled in next to him, and got as close as I could without him suspecting... When he thought I was asleep, he touched himself. I could hear him, and I loved the way it sounded. His voice sent hot chills down my spine. I wanted so badly to look at him... to watch. I couldn't, though... and I hated it.
He had laughed at me when he got out of the shower the next morning. I was staring, and we both knew it. "We need to get you a girl," he said. "Or maybe a guy, considering the way you watched me last night. I wonder..."
I froze, and I knew that my face went pale. Or, maybe it got red. I didn't know... I couldn't feel at all. My whole body must have gone completely numb, aside from the pounding of my heart. I wanted to die...
"Yeah, you watched..." he said, and I jumped. Had I spoken? I looked at him with wide eyes, and he laughed. "Dude, Rory... I don't care if you're gay. I've got plenty of queer friends. Maybe I can hook you up. Whatcha think?"
"Mom would kill you..." I said, without even realizing I'd spoken.
"Yeah? She doesn't have to know. Ror, I lost my virginity in Jr. High, man! She still thinks I'm a virgin!"
"Jr. High?" I asked. I was shocked, I guess. I shouldn't have been... but I was. It ruined the perfect image I had of my older brother. Yes... my brother.
"Yeah," he said again. I wished he'd use a different word... always "yeah."
"To who?" Why did I care?
"Jamie." I didn't know what to think, honestly. Jamie? Our old babysitter? That grossed me out. Jamie was a slut.
"Yeah, she was... but she was hot."
I had to stop doing that... I knew I'd end up saying something stupid if I didn't stop speaking out like that. I'd end up confessing my feelings... My dirty, animalistic intensions would be bared, and he'd be disgusted. I didn't want to talk about Jamie anymore, though... so I did my best to change the subject. "Can I stay here all weekend?"
"Sure, I'll get you a guy, too."
God, he just couldn't get off that damn topic, could he? Wasn't there ever anything else on his mind? "I don't want one, Tneme."
"A girl, then?"
"I don't want one!"
"All right, then, forget it..."
He didn't forget it, though. The same topic came up again and again, until I was sick of it. After a while, I thought I would lose my damn mind. I nearly blew my cover twice... I was actually beginning to regret asking to stay all weekend... until Saturday night, at least.
He'd ordered pizza, and spent half the evening necking with some slut. I hated watching. I wanted to rip her hair out when she started touching him. Instead, I announced the feeling of nausea that was "moving into my throat." That got her running: she left twenty minutes later. Tneme was pissed... The only excuse I could think of was my overwhelming boredom.
I guess it worked, though... He rented a bunch of movies, and we ate pizza and popcorn. Well, he did, at least... I couldn't eat. I kept staring at him He was lying on his side right beside me, watching a naked girl get murdered with bored eyes. He was so close to me... so achingly close. He moved to lie on his stomach, shoulder brushing mine. I watched him grab m soda, and sip from it. I reached to take it from his hand before he put it back down, and brought it to my lips. For that moment, I was kissing him. Our lips were "touching."
I heard him laughing, and opened my eyes. My cheeks burned, but when I looked at him, I realized he wasn't laughing at me... he was laughing at the TV. I don't think I have ever felt so relieved in my life... I just put the drink down, and leaned back, staring at the television too intently to actually see anything that was happening on it.
Tneme must have noticed. He put his hand on my thigh-an innocent action, but, oh, it gave me shivers. I whimpered a little, and he said my name twice.
"Man, are you even listening?" he asked. "You got the runs or something?" s**t, that was romantic... I groaned a little. That had totally ruined the mood. The mood that I had made up in my head. ********/> "I'm fine. Just tired..."
"Oh. Y'wanna crash?" he asked as he stood, and turned the TV off.
"Yeah, I guess." I stood, then, and took my shirt off. I couldn't
believe it at first, but he grabbed my n****e. I couldn't believe it at first, but I hit that hand away and stumbled back. "What the hell're you going?!"
He laughed and took his own shirt off. "You should get your n****e pierced."
"Gross, no way."
"I'll do it," he muttered. "C'mon!" I watched him grab a needle, and wash it off. When he came near me, though, I backed off.
"No, man! Get away from me!"
He was laughing, and for the first time since I'd gotten there, I wanted to punch him. "I'll give you one of my rings. We can be n****e twins!" He laughed again, and grabbed my arm. "Don't be a p***y."
I let him pull me forward, and he shoved me onto his bed. I sat up, and started to move back, but he grabbed the front pocket of my pants. I let him... the feeling of his hand there gave me chills.
"Just let me," he mumbled. I didn't know what to say. I just nodded dumbly, and watched him. My eyes widened when he put the needle to my n****e, and pressed it in. I made to scream, but he covered my mouth. "Shut up, man! There are other people living around here!" I jumped when the needle broke through, and gasped. I would have cursed and yelled at him... but what he did next shocked me more than anything in my life...
"It's bleeding more than it should," he grumbled out... or maybe I only imagined him saying that. Maybe I made that up to give him an excuse for what he did. He leaned in after pulling the needle back out, and licked the blood off. I gasped-I know I did. I might have even whimpered a little. He leaned back again, and wiped the rest of it off with a damp napkin. I didn't know where he'd gotten it, though... it seemed to come from nowhere.
"Tneme..." I whispered. He gave me an odd look, and for a moment, I thought I'd crumble and die under those eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked me, his mature voice shockingly gentle for once.
"It hurts," I lied. Maybe I wasn't lying. It did hurt... but maybe I wasn't talking about the ******** needle. I could feel hot tears tolling down my cheeks. I'd never seen so much worry and guilt in my big brother's eyes before. That look hit me like a ton of bricks.
I did it. I crumbled.
I started crying, and I just couldn't stop. My poor brother panicked. He put his arms around me, and pulled me into his embrace. "H-hey, man..." he said. "Sorry, Rory... stop crying. If you really didn't want it, I wouldn'ta-"
I put my fingers over his mouth... and immediately, I wished I hadn't. I couldn't just stop there, though... his eyes, those damn eyes, told me what he expected something more. I gave it to him. I leaned up... my heart throbbed, and my head spun. I couldn't think-God, I couldn't even breathe! My lips touched his, and I heard him gasp. Immediately, I knew that I'd ******** up. I made to pull away, but something stopped me... something was holding me there.
I was shocked when I realized that my brother's hand was on the back of my head. His tongue actually slipped into my mouth, and I made a soft, startled noise. Before I could even return the kiss, my back was against the bed. I pushed him away, then... God knows why, though. "What are you doing?" I asked through gasping pants. Lord, I must have been a sight... lying there with my chin-length hair all a mess, cheeks flushed and pale against the dark of that tussled mane. My shirt was still on the floor... on the floor and safe. I was gasping for air... but so was he. Even though I'd pushed him back, my brother's hands... his beautiful, pale hands were on the fly off my ripped jeans. He'd unbuttoned them at one point... He'd even unzipped them, and I didn't realize it.
"What are you talking about?" he hissed, sounding hurt. For a moment, I'd forgotten what had happened. I forgot that I pushed him away... I forgot that he'd kissed me back... that my dreams were coming true. He got off of me, and I felt like an idiot. I knew I started to cry, because he yelled at me to "shut the ******** up, or I'll kill you!"
In that instant, I knew I'd screwed up. I knew that I'd ruined everything. I could have had him right there... For that moment, he wanted me as badly as I had wanted him, and I'd ******** up.
I wanted to die.
I laid there on that bed, my fly open... pants tugged down a little on my thighs. My lips were swollen from that kiss. I listened to him move around... but I couldn't look at him. I wanted to just die. I don't know how long I was lying there like that. Could have been hours. Could have been days... I still don't know. Everything between that moment, and the next morning is still a blur-a fuzz in my mind that comes back to haunt me in my dreams.
It's times like that I'm glad I have his body to curl up next to: our bodies naked and smooth-warm under our heavy blanket-and safely tucked in each other's arms. It's times like that I'm grateful for everything about him... for his dark, probing eyes... and that quickly fading blue dye in his bleach blonde hair; for his pale lips that whisper my name when we made love, and for his gentle hands that push my damp hair from my face at night, so he can see my eyes when I whisper back to him...
"I love you, too... Tneme."
* * *
Dear God,
We never meant to hurt anyone. We just wanted to be together, to be happy. That's why we left Newport, and came here. We can be happy here, and no one has to know. I don't care if I go to Hell... as long as I'm with him forever.
Rory
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 26, 2005 8:11 pm
I read both of the stories- they are both awesome. I really hope you post more here soon, because I'd love to read it. Keep up the good work- I look forward to seeing more of it. heart
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2005 12:56 pm
First, let me say that your writing is worlds away from my standard reading.
secondly, let me say that you writing is wonderful. You're depiction of humanity is really stirring. You cut straight to the flesh. So while this is a lil' bit of a diversion from my circle, I'd love to see more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2005 1:40 pm
luminesce_aurora I read both of the stories- they are both awesome. I really hope you post more here soon, because I'd love to read it. Keep up the good work- I look forward to seeing more of it. heart
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2005 1:42 pm
ClockworkNinja First, let me say that your writing is worlds away from my standard reading. secondly, let me say that you writing is wonderful. You're depiction of humanity is really stirring. You cut straight to the flesh. So while this is a lil' bit of a diversion from my circle, I'd love to see more.
=D Maybe I should ask for idea suggestions or something.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 28, 2005 10:29 am
My Lover's Child
Such a___perfect___sweet Lolita;
His hair tied back in___pink
Ribbons, the left one___always
Forgotten. I'd laugh, and
Tie it up again,___but___the pretty
Satin bow would be___undone
By noon,___forgotten___once again.
Poor___little___ribbon.
My sweet,___innocent___Lolita--
My___nimphet___and only love.
With that little___doll___clasped
In his arms--his very own___baby.
Always, he___spoke___to that doll,
Expecting so much from its___china
Face.___As if it would smile back.
She___never___did.
Convinced his___doll___was quite alive,
I never onced___protested.___My simple
Love,___so naive, so wonderful;
Perfect.___If only I had realized it
Then.___Too___innocent to love, yet
My___blind___eyes denied me reality.
If only she___loved___me as much as
That___voiceless___doll.
A chilly day in___October;___his
Favorite___time of the year, I took him
In.___How simple of me not to
Have seen what a___mistake___I made.
Those___fits___that I had once so
Admired___for their innocence began
To tear me___apart___so abruptly.
Those___childish___tantrums.
What a turn our___love___had taken;
My love became me___child.___I
Looked upon my sweet___Lolita___in
Horror___as he'd sit so simply in
Our___garden___with that doll--
That___damned___doll which had silently,
Sneakily___stolen my beloved's mind.
That___damned___doll.
My___bare___left hand stroked idly his pretty
Curls___as we read to one another by
The fire, my right hand___cradling___the
Book's hard___black___spine--my turn
to Read. His head rested___silently___in my
Lap, his___breathing___tranquil and lingering,
That doll___clutched in his arms. He slept.
Once___upon___a time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 28, 2005 10:31 am
poison
harsh words
sharp tongue tearing
the sacred bonds we had
hurt
i hurt so bad
shattered bonds
ears keep ringing
the screeching sound of lies
tremble
i can't stop trembling
cruel lies
they keep pounding
the rhythm of my tears
stop
you won't stop screaming
bitter tears
broken lips tasting
the poison of your words
drink
i drink to you
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2005 10:28 am
^_^ There. All up to date. I'll be adding a story in a day or two~!
POLL ADDED!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2005 6:40 am
Lonely Butterfly
Whenever I think back on the day I found Laures and his sweet sister, huddled desperately together for warmth, I remember that it was raining.
The two children were dry, despite the weather, tucked away in a large packaging box turned on its side. I remember little Locke was sleeping restlessly in her brother's arms as he stroked her hair idly, watching the rain.
We probably would have pitied hem, my wife and I, for a moment... and continued on our way to the liquor store (--that's where we were headed that day, though we never did make it there) had we not been so moved by the sight of that neat, pretty doll, held so affectionately in the little girl's arms.
As we approached the two, I noticed the older boy stiffen in apprehension, and tighten his hold on the sleeping girl in his arms enough to wake her up. I warned my wife of his alertness, but she continued on anyhow, and knelt before them. "You poor things," she said. "Where are your parents?"
I knew before he said it that it was a lie, for he covered his sister's mouth briefly with his hand, and answered with a loveless, "They're dead." The look of surprise and sadness on that little girl's face was enough for me to give in to my wife's pleading eyes.
"Come on, kids," I said then, much to my wife's delight. "At least we can get you out of the cold, and put some food in your stomach."
I'm sure Locke would have jumped up immediately at the offering of food and shelter... but Laures held her back for a moment, and stared at me almost suspiciously. I stared back in silence, allowing myself to blink a few times before he stood, pulling his skinny sister to her feet, and hoisting her small body up against his hip. She wrapped her legs about his waist, her dirty, pink dress riding up skinny thighs. I noted the holes in her stockings with a pang of guilt, and put a hand on the boy's back comfortingly as I lead him to the car.
He placed his sister in first, buckling her in, and stroking that little doll's hair so gently it might have been alive, before he closed the door, and turned to look at me. He said nothing--I'm sure he knew his sister could still hear him. Instead, he lowered his eyes, and moved around the back of the car to get in beside little Locke.
My wife and I hurried into the car, and started it up... turning the heat up extra high to make sure they were warm enough. We kept the radio low to keep the feeling in the car more comforting, but didn't dare turn it off, for fear of an awkward, lingering silence.
"The drive home is about a half hour," my wife told them. "Why don't we stop at a fast food place on the way? Are you hungry?"
The boy's purple eyes brightened, then, and he looked at his sister. She was smiling widely, and covering her lips with her hand to be polite. I could see her through my rear view mirror. The sight of it made me want to laugh, but I was careful not to--somehow, I knew it would startle her.
"Ja," the boy said affirmatively, a smile finally cracking his young features. "Dankeschoen."
My wife smiled at me, and for a moment, I thought she might have cried. It was as if we had children of our own for that moment... after the accident, my wife hadn't been able to have children. We appreciated the idea of being able to care for these two unfortunates.
I know she was thinking the same thing... I watched from the corner of my eyes as her hand went to rest on her flat stomach. I said nothing, but pulled out of the parking lot, and headed down Monroe Street, toward the 'restaurant belt' as I jokingly called it. Five or six restaurants all lined up next to each other--three of them fast food places. They say it's better for competition--I think it's just ridiculous.
"I'm Evan Sjoulen. This is my wife, Evelyn."
"Evie," she corrected immediately, and laughed a little. The sound of the children laughing after her sent my stomach in a warm whirl. I looked at little Locke's reflection in the rear view mirror, and smiled at the
sight of her stroking her doll's hair carefully, a simple smile on her smudged face. "What are--"
I didn't even have to finish. "Laures," the boy said. "I'm Laures, and this is my sister, Locke. We--"
"And this is Reilly!!" the little girl chimed in--taking all three of us by surprise. For a while, I was sure she didn't have a voice. My wife must have thought so, too.
"Locke, don't interrupt!" her brother scolded.
She lowered her head a little, and pouted lightly. "Entschuldigung," she murmured guiltily.
Laures's features softened at that, and he reached out to stroke his sister's matted, blonde girls. "It's okay," he told her. "Just be more careful."
I was impressed by her brother's attempts to teach her manners, and how to be polite. She nodded and smiled a little, then looked at Laures.
I took that opportunity to speak. "It's nice to meet all three of you," I said
softly.
Locke smiled at me, and lifted her doll up a little. "She turns six in a week," she said proudly.
"My, my," Evie said, looking mighty impressed. "Soon she'll be a lady."
Locke giggled softly, and I noted with relief how much Laures relaxed after that. "Nein," Locke said, smiling. "But I'm going to be ten soon!"
"Oh?" Evie asked. "How soon?"
"Not soon," Laures corrected. "She only turned nine four months ago."
Locke pouted, and stuck her tongue out at her brother. For a moment, I was afraid he might hit her... but he didn't--instead, and much to my relief--he stuck his tongue back out.
"How about you, Laures?" I asked, then, causing all three of them to start. I guess they hadn't expected my voice.
"Fifteen," he said simply. "I'll be sixteen the month after next."
"Ah, so you're already a man," I told him. He didn't seem impressed, but he smiled anyhow.
"Kinda... I guess. I don't have my permit yet."
"I'll take you to get it on your birthday," I said--without even thinking.
My wife looked at me with wide eyes, and both children fell silent. I bit my lip and glanced to her as I pressed slowly down on the break, and stopped next to the menu.
Thank God for fast food restaurants.
"What can I get you?" a computer-muffled voice asked. I jumped and looked out the window. "Can I get--actually... I have no idea." I looked back at the kids.
They started laughing. I appreciated their high-spiritedness. "What do you want, kids?"
"Could I get a hamburger and fries?" he asked. "Oh!--and a coke. And Locke will get the chicken tenders with fries, and a strawberry shake."
"Dankeschoen," I heard a little voice squeak out.
I smiled. "Sure thing," I said, and looked out the window. "Can I get a number three, a number eight with a strawberry shake... and two number nines, one with extra ketchup and extra pickles?"
"Anthing else?" the voice asked, so fast it startled me.
I watched our order pop up on the screen, and shook my head. "That'll be all, thanks."
"You're total is $21.50. Please drive up."
* * *
We got back to the Tavern before noontime, and I carried in the trash, while Laures carried his little sister, taking a sip from her shake as she held it out for him. My wife led them upstairs, and gave them a brief tour of the house. It didn't take her long--she had it down to an art. My wife loved to show off our quaint, comfortable little upstairs apartment to people. They were always so impressed with how homey it was.
"Do you kids want to take baths?" she asked. They both nodded tentatively. She smiled, and led them into the bathroom, where Laures put Locke down slowly, but kept and arm around her. "Okay, who wants to take one first? Locke?"
"Can... we take one together?" Locke asked meekly, pressed against her brother's chest. He bit his lip, and rubbed her back gently, looking down awkwardly.
The shame on their faces sent a wash of guilt over me so quickly and so harshly I swear I almost fell over. I looked at my wife, and she was looking at me with a look of half-panic.
"Sure," I said simply. "Of course you can. We understand that you guys aren't comfortable enough to be alone yet. Evie'll fill one up for you guys, okay?"
"Can we have bubbles?!" Locke asked then, much more courageously than before.
Evie's face softened, and she laughed. "Sure," she said softly. "I'll go get some. Do you want Strawberry, or--"
"Strawberry!" she squealed, and Laures laughed out loud, shaking his head a little.
Evie and I were glad to be rid of the terrible, guilty silence after that. She got their tub all set, and pulled the door closed behind her as she left the bathroom.
I knew it was only a matter of time before she said it--"We'll take him to get his permit on his birthday?" she asked, sounding more angry than she was. In fact, she wasn't angry--she was excited about the idea of keeping the children. I didn't argue. I just smiled dumbly at her, and shrugged a little.
I'd never seen my wife so happy.
* * *
The tavern didn't open that night--while the children bathed, Evie set up the small guest room for them, and I cooked a full chicken dinner after setting the table. Their expressions as they came into the kitchen--little Locke in one of my white oxfords, and Laures in my flannels--made al the work worth it.
Sweet Locke ran to the table excitedly, and climbed up into a seat on her knees. "Oh! How marvelous!" she sang out. I felt my heart throb as I heard her, and watched her show the table to her doll.
I'm sure Laures would have scolded her had he not seen the smile on my face. He climbed silently into a chair beside his sister, and stroked her head to calm her. It was then that I noticed her hair.
Those pure, blonde locks were twisted and wrapped up in cloth, 19th-century-style curlers, all tied into bows atop her head. "Did you do your hair, Locke?" I asked as he wife sat down.
"Laures did it," Evie told me, sounding impressed. "I let them use a piece of fabric from my sewing room. Isn't that adorable?"
Laures was actually blushing, staring down at his lap. "It makes her hair curly," he said with a shrug.
I smiled a little, and touched his shoulder. "You're a good brother," I told him, before picking up Locke's plate, and serving her dinner. That was the first, and last time Laures looked at me, and really truly smiled.
* * *
We ended up keeping the children as our own. Laures had flatly refused to attend school, or to allow Locke to go... but, what had surprised us was the fact that he didn't refuse an education. We decided to have them home-schooled, then--hiring a tutor to come in for the hours of the morning.
It was always the same old ritual: the children woke up at seven, and their tutor arrived at eight. At noon, they were dismissed from their studies, and given some money to go out for the day, until five o'clock, when the Tavern opened. Sometimes, of course, the children chose to stay at home to watch movies, or read, and the like.
Locke read often--she bought a new book once a week, at least. Laures always picked out the book. I never said anything about it, for Locke never once complained about the arrangement. She looked up to her brother in a way that both shocked, and relieved my dear wife and I.
Laures wasn't a literary person--he hated to read, but enjoyed math and science above all. The children never competed. Everything was... perfect.
At least, for a little while.
At sixteen, Laures began to spend less and less time with his sweet sister. We knew it was normal--my wife and I--Laures was a teenager, after all. But for Locke, it was different.
I noticed a change in her immediately. She began to talk to that doll of hers more often than before, and carried around another that they had brought with them in a backpack--this one with black hair. In fact, there were three... but the little redheaded doll never seemed to be the center of Locke's attention.
She began to neglect her studies--something extremely unlike her. She went to bed early, and slept in late--the poor little thing. One day--I recall--finally opened my eyes to what was truly going on.
The bar was closed for the day--I remember that well, for had it been opened, I would not have come across the poor girl.
She had been put into the tub that morning, as always, by her brother... He had left her to bathe, and gotten dressed himself. We thought nothing of it when he announced to us that he was going out with some friends to see a movie.
Oh, how I regret letting him go.
Noon had come and gone, and I had set Locke's lunch on the table with a bowl of strawberries, as ever. She hadn't come down to eat, so I'd assumed that she fell asleep. Nonetheless, I wandered upstairs to check on her.
I was surprised to find her bed empty, and almost shocked to see both her doll, and her dress for the day still laid out on the neatly-made bed.
"Locke?" I called out softly. Then I heard it--a soft splash. I moved immediately to the door leading into the bathroom just off their bedroom. "Oh, god! Locke!" The poor little thing!--she looked more victimized and vulnerable at that moment than ever before.
There she was, still waiting for her brother to tell her when she could get out, and he'd left over three hours ago. She was shivering, her pouting lips drawn in tight, and blue. She kept licking them to warm them, but I knew that each time she pulled her tongue back into her mouth, the moisture just made them cold again.
I lept forward immediately, and lifted her from her place, huddled in the corner. Cold water dripped from her trembling body as I placed her down, and wrapped her up in a towel. I pulled her close, and rubbed her arms in a frantic attempt to steady her temperature.
"Poor little butterfly," I whispered shakily, lifting her up to carry her out of the bathroom. I put her on the bed, and held her close--rubbing her back and upper arms to keep her warm. I could feel her shivering against me as I held her.
It was then that I realized how dependant we'd allowed her to become.
After nearly a half hour, I had stopped her shivering, and gotten her lips back to their natural colour. I put her into her dress, and carried her down to the kitchen, where I knew it would be warm. I set her at the table with her doll and a book, and kissed her head. "You read." I whispered. "I'll make you some soup."
* * *
I never told Evie about what had happened that day, or anything that had happened after. I'm sure it was better that way. I didn't want to upset her... though every night I sit up and wish I could save that poor little girl from her own brother, and wonder what happened to make him act the way he did.
I regret it even to this day--I know I never should have left that poor child with Laures. I should have brought her with us when we left, but she was nearly fourteen, then... old enough, as I thought, to make her own choices.
Sure, she was old enough--but she certainly wasn't capable of it. Her brother made all the decisions--all of his own, all of hers... and sometimes, he had even made ours.
In Evie's eyes, he could do no wrong, though. She loved that boy like her own child, and I didn't dare disrupt the perfect image she had of him.
After all, he was the perfect kid.
Even perfect children have their secrets, though... don't they? I'm sure they do.
It's the kind of secrets they have that worry me. I still can't get the image of my head of those hands... Laures' strong hands touching that poor little girl. Those vicious hands hitting her when she was 'bad.' Those false hands stroking her hair when she did as she was told...
I'll never forgive myself for packing up, and abandoning her the way I did... leaving her to her brother's wrath--and I'll never forget the look in her pretty, mismatch eyes as I got into my car, and drove away...
My poor Lonely Butterfly, and her little doll.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 8:05 pm
Her Last Innocent Breath
How long had it been
since her mother said "good-bye?"
How long
since her walk to school began?
How long had it been
since she left her vacant house?
How long
since her feet first touched the street?
The air was stale and spoilt
with dust and wasted sex.
The once-white sheets beneath her
now reeked of blood and sweat.
It couldn't have been night,
the day had only just began.
She's been down in that room
for what seemed like endless hours.
It always did, though... didn't it?
How long had it been
since that car pulled up beside her?
How long
since her cries first went unheard?
How long had it been
since her books fell to the ground?
How long
since she first began to weep?
Her body was destroyed;
made filthy by his mocking gaze.
Her mind couldn't stop reeling
after that sudden, screaming silence.
Those ruthless, metal teeth
bit roughly at her delicate flesh
The stinging burn of rope
still lingered on her tattered ankles.
It always did, though... didn't it?
How long had it been
since the first blow had been struck?
How long
since her wrists were clamped in chains?
How long had it been
since her brand-new skirt had ripped?
How long
since her last innocent breath?
Her empty stomach turned
as the realization hit.
Her broken body retched,
as she vomited her shame.
Why couldn't she recall
if she'd screamed while it was done?
Her throat was sore
and her mind was simply blank.
It always was, though... wasn't it?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 13, 2005 11:43 am
I am in awe.
When I read the first chapter with Laures and Locke, I thought that had been the end of it. I was both impressed and a bit disappointed at the same time, wishing there had been more clarification and detail on Laures.
I scrolled down, reading over the poetry - until I came to the last entry.
The moment I read the names, I know that I grinned. I had to of - a continuation was exactly what I had desired.
My stories are way too detailed - they babble and take away from the points that I wish to make in my writing. It is writers like you to which I owe all of my envy. That story is magnificent, and I beg of you to continue adding to it.. even if only a paragraph at a time.
I have a few recommendations, as well. I hope that is alright.
Occasionally you capitalize "strawberry," - I would look out for that. xD
You also use "---" a lot, which I tend to do as well. One dash works just as well as three, but you use them an awful lot in the first part of the story. Reading the second piece has really shown how far you have come as a writer. Mayhaps you could try to dullen the use of them a niche?
Kudos to you, again.
Fantastic stories.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 05, 2005 3:46 pm
WoW.
Your stories are Brilliant. Very well written.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 20, 2005 1:46 am
Your stories are really impressive and I enjoyed reading every single one of it. You are one seriously talented writer, girl =) And I won't be surprised if you get a book published or sth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
