zodiakk
He struck me like the plague.
Not the kind that was necessarily bad--only wait; all plagues were bad, weren't they?
He was just intoxicating. I could never seem to shake him from my mind, and anytime I'd come close to doing just that, he'd be right there. Smiling, laughing, sighing, looking very thoughtful. I wish I knew what I could do to rid him from my head. I would surely die soon, otherwise.
It was the last straw.
Not literally, of course. But Howl had had enough with Sophie and her pestering ways. "Why don't you keep your house tidy?" "Can you pick up those books?" "Why are you so mean?"
Howl would have nothing of it anymore. He stood up from his chair, slamming it back with such a force it hit the wall behind him, and stormed off into the stairwell.
Sophie, flustered, pondered, "I just asked him to pass the butter..."
I hate doing chores, but there's one of those things you just have to do. My dad was one of those parents that cleaned when stressed out, and with his job, he was always stressing over something. So when it came time to do a weekly clean of the house, there was a huge list of things to do--literally. My dad is a perfectionist. I love, and hate it, because although our house is always really tidy and nice, I'm a messy person by nature. I just can't function as well in the tidy areas, it's just my stress. D:
The liquid was a disgusting maroon color. It was laced across the tabletop, a pool that seemed to have thinned out over night. I looked at it again, tilting my head to one side. It didn't look like blood, it was too dark. For a human, anyway. Taking a step closer, I slowly reached out and let my hand hover over the maroon liquid. Did I dare touch it? See what it was?
Not really. But I had to.
I had been cast aside. She didn't need me anymore. She didn't want me anymore. More importantly--she didn't care about me anymore. I was no longer acknowledged as existing, I was a waste of space, time, and air.
It would have been perfectly fine, if it were anyone other than Cala.
It was my turn to watch the kids. I didn't want to, but I knew that if I didn't assist my sister with this, she'd never bring me out this weekend.
I always slept with a chain of cranes hanging from my ceiling. It was something I had put together when I was in 9th grade. Hundreds of them, strung together, just dashing from one corner of my bedroom to the next.
Last week, I was cleaning my room and I realized the cranes had fallen apart much earlier. It was so sad. I tried putting them back, but they wouldn't stay. I miss the birds flying across my bedroom at night.
She had braided her hair that day, and when she walked, it swung behind her with a certain kind of enthusiasm. Complimenting her stride, her confidence, her happiness, it made a lot of sense. I followed after her, making sure to keep up with her pace, all the while listening to her blissful chatter about her day. I loved the way she braided her hair.
I was wading through a pool of water, trying to get to the opposite side where he lay. He was breathing, just barely, his chest very slowly rising and falling.
Just one or two more steps, and I'd be to him. I just hoped it would be in time.
I always had a crush. All my life.
Books.
So many words, the fresh smell of a new book. It was so crisp feeling, the paper beneath my fingers.
I always wanted to create my own, something that would impress them. The books.
I hope one day I'll be able to do such a thing.
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