Comments Posted By cherrieygrl18
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The swatches simply didn’t fit the end result. This was, afterall, supposed to be a happy time in their lives. So, why couldn’t she get in the spirit? She held the dull greens and grays to her belly, as if to show the growing bump the colors of the room she’d be occupying for the coming years. She held the colors up to the walls, again, and then sat them back on her belly as she slumped lazily into the delicate rocking chair. She muttered, then swore. Getting up, she peeked out through the slit in the blinds at the vibrant neighborhood she felt so isolated from. She felt dull. She felt plain. She felt ugly–and fat. She turned, almost violently, and ran down the stairs, grabbing her car keys and purse. Returning three hours later, she felt refreshed–renewed. She wore a dress and danced, painting the walls with the new yellow paint she’d recovered during her adventure. Stepping back, she felt satisfied, admiring the room and it’s current occupants. Her husband would hate the color. And, she could smile at that.
» Posted By cherrieygrl18 On 06.20.2014 @ 6:38 am
The artwork on the wall presented itself swimmingly. The crashing waves rolled over the jaded, antique hell. Many a people had chosen that path–walking boldly to the edge, flinging oneself over it in a last, horrid attempt to end one’s life. Although the oftentimes succeeded, not so often in the ways they had pictured such a glorious last choice. Too often, the rocky stakes didn’t kill them instantly. Rather, a bloody and mysterious dance with the sea and the rocks as their jealous partners did; and, when they didn’t bleed to death, they often drowned. Ah, yes–this glorious artwork. It made the cliffs of D’Amoir seem almost beautiful. But, I knew better. How could I not? For I had been sentenced to a life of retrieving those bodies.
» Posted By cherrieygrl18 On 05.24.2014 @ 6:28 am
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Filtering through the papers and various household items of the relationship she formerly referred to as her marriage, she threw one item, one paper, after another in the garbage. Toss…throw…take another sip from her bottle of Raspberry Smirnoff…the tears rolling down her face…then, she lost it. Scattering the papers on the floor, she screamed at the ceiling, angry…upset…hurt…the tears poured down her face as she sank into the floor, shaking with sobs—a puddle of a woman in shambles. After what seemed like hours, she picked her limp, shattered body up off the floor. It was time to simplify. It was time to start over.
» Posted By cherrieygrl18 On 05.08.2013 @ 5:25 pm