I’d like to see them intact and friendly. That’d be nice. Maybe I could see historical figures or our loved ones.
I was going to make this a story, but I got lazy. Kthxbai
She didn’t know what to think anymore.
Did she really kill someone? Could she ever be so cold-hearted as to plunge a knife deep into her best friend’s heart? Sure, they had an argument the night before the murder, but the fight was nothing out of the ordinary. The police found her bloody, sitting next to her dead friend with the knife in her hand. What other evidence did they need? She didn’t think she did it. But she couldn’t remember anything and there was no one to defend her. Day after day, she hears words accusing her of the horrible crime and day after day, she begins to believe it more. She tries to talk herself through what happened that night. What actually happened that night? Nobody knows. No one can tell her. She mutters to herself more and more as time passes and she rips at her hair from time to time. She feels she must have done it. Maybe she should be locked up. But, in a jail cell or in a mental asylum?
She didn’t have many friends so she turned to music for companionship. But with music, she didn’t need anyone else. Her favorite singer was Elvis Presley.
She knew just about everything there was to know about him. She knew that he received his first guitar at twelve but was extremely shy about singing in public. She knew that Elvis liked to read. Two of his favorite books were The Holy Bible and The Impersonal Life. She even knew that his preferred aftershave lotion was “Brut.”
But, today was special. It was Valentine’s Day. She contently listened to Elvis’s deep reverberating voice as he sung “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” She imagined that Elvis was singing to her as she wrote a letter to him. It was a yearly ritual for her. She loved him and knew that Elvis’s voice saved her more than once in her life. She just wanted him to know this much.
She finished up her letter and reread it several times until she felt content with it. Then she wrapped up the letter and brought it to her apartment’s fire escape.
She raised her left hand with the letter followed by her right hand with a lighter. Flick. The letter went up in flames. She could only hope her feelings would reach him.
“Love Me Tender” played in her apartment.
I was walking in circles eating all the samples Costco offered. I was really there to get some frozen pot pie and white castle burgers, but what the hell, I had time to kill.
As I turned the corner in search of more samples, the wheel of my shopping cart made an odd sound. I looked down to find an envelope. It was the type that you’d find full of photos.
I bent down to pick up the thin envelope and several photos fell out. They fell out back side up.
I picked the one on top and flipped it over.
The first thing to catch my attention was a top hat. As my eyes scanned down, I see a man in a rust colored vest and a tailcoat of sorts. As if that weren’t weird enough, the man had goggles around his top hat, a weird contraption on his leg in a bronze colored metal, and a bronze gun that looked like it would spew lasers at people. The gun was pointed towards the camera.
To his left was a woman in a brown corset with a long gorgeous golden patterned dress flowing beneath. She had one hand laying on the choker on her neck and her other arm was wrapped around the man’s arm. Her lips were a crimson red.
The two stood in a garden full of grass, bushes, and vibrant flowers.
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. It was so Victorian-esque, yet not. The color was so vivid, but they were dressed as if it was the past. But the man’s gun and goggles said otherwise.
Wait…. Was that a Pikachu popping out of a bush? What the hell was going on? I just don’t know.
I’m really not going to even try to make this a short story or anything.
My favorite day of the week is a toss-up between Wednesday and Saturday.
My dad is only home on Wednesdays. I hardly ever go out on a Wednesday, not that I got out much anyway. Either way, it’s the only day I really see him so I love Wednesdays. Unfortunately, it’s only the middle of the week. Also, school and work rarely have that day off.
Saturdays are great and would be the best if that were my dad’s off day. But it’s alright. Saturday is that day where you can finally sleep in after an exhausting day. It’s a day to recuperate or to procrastinate. I could drink and not worry that I’ll be hung over at work. (Assuming I drank on weekends.) I can bake or cook or hang out with friends without that feeling of impending doom, the feeling of having a paper due at 9:05 Monday morning.
Short prompt? Yes please.
Kenny, Joseph, and Greg sat leisurely on a log with their bare feet dipped into the stream near Kenny’s house. They weren’t particularly good friends, but their parents had insisted they play together. The end of the school year that they had so eagerly waited for had arrived before they knew it and quite honestly, they were bored.
Summer was supposed to be fun. No more school. Play video games day in and day out. All three boys’ parents had banded together and decided that unless it was raining, the boys were to play outside.
But their parents didn’t understand. Playing outside was for seven or eight year olds. Joseph and Greg were both already ten and Kenny would be too in less than a month.
“This is so stupid,” Greg would say. Joseph would just nod in agreement. It went on like this for a while, with Greg ranting and Joseph nodding.
Finally, Greg turned to Kenny “Don’t you think so too?”
Kenny was quiet for a moment, his eyes focused up at the sky. Then he absently muttered “Uhm… Yeah. Sure.”
Greg followed Kenny’s gaze but saw nothing of interest. “What the hell are you looking at?”
Kenny answered in the same slow tone. “The… cloud I guess. Do you think the dead can come back and talk to you as a cloud? I saw it in The Lion King when Mufasa keeps telling Simba to remember something.”
Greg laughed loudly. “As if. Only stupid people would believe that!”
But then, Joseph spoke up, “I think so. I think I saw in The Simpsons too. You know that jazz guy that Lisa talked too.”
Greg glared at Joseph for taking Kenny’s side, but Joseph and Kenny end up in a conversation all on their own.
“Yeah. Like that!” Kenny suddenly sounded excited.
“Maybe, it’s not just the dead. Didn’t Voldemort talk to people with that giant cloud head thing? The snake thing came out of his mouth and it was so cool!” Joseph added.
Greg tried to interrupt with a groan and said how stupid they were and how stupid their ideas were.
“Or maybe there are people that live on the clouds instead!” Kenny spoke right through Greg.
Greg through his hands off and stormed off. He wasn’t going to play with stupid little babies who believed everything they saw.
Kenny and Joseph stayed put though. They continued to talk about all the possibilities of cloud people and how great it would be to live on the clouds too.
It was the start of a great friendship.
People always want to be remembered for something grand. A great invention or a new discovery. Changing the world. Taking over the world? I don’t know.
I don’t think I need all of that. I don’t even know if I really want to be remembered. It just sounds sad for the people I leave behind, assuming anyone cares about me when I die.
But then, I do find it scary thinking “Did I and do I still exist if no one remembers me?”
If I were to be remembered, I’d just like it to be how they saw me in life. If you think of me as a bitch, then remember me as one. If you thought of me a great friend, I hope that’s what you remember.
Did I ever really have a favorite toy? I don’t really think I did. Or if I did, I don’t remember this at all.
Perhaps I was fickle even as a small child.
I remember the grey keyboard that played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star if you wanted it to. I could speed it up or slow it down and pretend I knew how to play. I only ended up knowing Happy Birthday and Mary had a Little Lamb.
Then there were the little train and train tracks that went round and round. And, there’s no way I could forget the huge set of legos. We would make phones or houses out of them. Okay, so maybe I completely sucked at it, but I always watched my sister make them.
Other than that, I had a little battery powered doll that rode a bicycle. That didn’t last long as my uncle accidently stepped on it. I also think he was the one that gave it to me.
There were even times I would be mesmerized by snow globes or music boxes. Give me a dark room and something that played music and lit up? I’d be set for hours.
If I had to choose one favorite toy though, it’d have to be Sky Dancers. (Thanks to SD for finding the name for me) I would shoot the Sky Dancer up in the air repeatedly. And eventually, I started shooting it at my sister instead. Now, don’t look at me like I’m a violent child. She shot it at me first. I also eventually learned to make it twirl slow enough to stay on the base. It doubled as entertainment and a fan on scorching days. I’d even dunk it in water to make it like a fan with the water spritzer.
In all honesty, an easier prompt would have been “What toy did you hate the most in your childhood?” The Barbie, whose head I knocked off would be a close runner up. However, my answer would be that unbelievably creepy Cabbage Patch Kids that asked if I wanted to sing in the middle of the night. No I do not! I still swear to this day that I had switched it off before I slept.
The early years were pretty typical. She cried her lungs out like any other baby. She ate and pooped and slept and then she ate and pooped some more.
One time I can’t forget is when her sister was misbehaving and her mother decided to say “If you’re a bad girl, I’ll love your baby sister more.” The older sister bit her toe in retaliation. Needless to say, more tears were shed.
She continued to cry right up to elementary school. She cried the first day of Chinese school when her mother dropped her off. She started bawling when her sister headed to her own class. It was so bad that the teacher tried to calm her down with a stuffed animal and when that didn’t help, the teacher had another student go find her sister.
However, she didn’t cry that time she tripped on the way to school and scraped up her face. Nor were there tears that time she got elbowed in a face by a man playing volleyball at her block party. Well, at least not until she felt the blood gushing from her nostrils.
Fast forwards a couple years and she’s not crying so much anymore. Second grade, she decides that she hates all substitute teachers and doesn’t have to listen to them because they aren’t her “real teachers.” Unfortunately, her “real teacher” was on maternity leave and she almost failed the grade. Probably.
One year, she doesn’t even have friends just because little kids are mean and stupid. “Don’t be her friends,” one says. And lo and behold, she has no friends for a year. It was just plain pitiful.
She meets her first best friend in fourth grade and her second one in sixth grade. Around the same time, she begins to make internet friends because you know, that’s the safest way to make friends of course. In eighth grade, she meets another girl and by this time, she’s given up on the term “best friend” and has decided on “closest friends” instead. She also decides that it’s stupid to just be quiet and get shoved around and so, she grows a backbone. Good for her!
In high school, she experiences her first crush, a guy with a headband. What she was thinking, I have no clue. She and the second best friend stalk him through the school and take pictures through the windows on the classroom door.
She also experiences a guy confessing to her. Unfortunately, he is a complete psychopath. Even more unfortunate, all the future confessions will be from sociopaths. Also, the two boyfriends that she does have in high school really don’t last. She’s just much too fickle to hold a relationship, though she did find close friend number four in one of them.
She spends the rest of high school filled with mostly self made drama and summer internships, and not to mention, she has her first girl crush. Fun times that most teens experience. In freshman year, she finds close friend number five and close friend number six in her senior year. Also, one of her internet friends visits for her prom. Again, safest way to make friends.
College classes zoom by and she’s shoved from one group project to the next. Maybe I haven’t mentioned it until now, but this girl is a complete social retard. Group projects with her, to say the least, are interesting. She takes commands because no one else does. She needs the work done. Seriously, she’s so unbelievably pushy and OCD at times.
In her second year of college, her second close friend decides not to be friends with her anymore. She reverts back to her five year old self and bawls for several days. She’s emo as fuck and most people probably couldn’t stand her but were almost forced to be nice to her.
But since then, she has re-evaluated her thoughts and actions and resolved to be a more optimistic person. Too bad that resulted in a “Why are you acting so fake?” Major ouch. It was a minor set back, but she learns exactly how caring and dependable her friends really are.
Currently, she is happier. She and close friend two have made up since and she has at least a vague idea of her direction in life. Hopefully, she stays content with life because it’s really annoying when she cries about anything and everything.
What else is in store for her? She will hopefully graduate from college in a year. Aside from that, I have no idea. Let’s just hope for the best.
There’s that girl that’s always in an oversized hoodie, the one that never fails to blatantly fall asleep in the second or third row in class daily. Yet somehow, she manages to perform well on tests and some of the professors even like her.
That girl would be me.
I am a mess in my daily life. My hair is rarely combed and you can usually find me in my oversized green hoodie and bright blue converses with the bright yellow tongue in all its polka doted glory. That’s not to say I don’t clean up well.
I often come off stoic or cold hearted and I say things as I see it. I take charge when no one else steps up to the plate. Some hate me for it. Others love that about me.
But those that get to know me understand that I open up easily. They know I have my fan girl moments and my weak moments.
I am who I am. Take it or leave it.
