My last post? Crying, as simple as that.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
Before I start the dream, I think it was triggered by these odd moments of dissociation disorder I seem to have. for one moment, I'm struck by our oneness. I stare down at my glass of water, my pencil, my hand, and think, why are we using this? Who does this belong to? Would they get mad if they caught us using this? And then I stop and wonder, where did that come from? Who is Us? What triggers this strange moment? I don't know. Also, if you haven't seen Insidious, you might not get it. WARNING: SCARY
"My ears are filled with silent buzzing. The pressure on my eardrums fills my mind. I become aware of other things around me slowly, an odd weightlessness, light burning through my eyelids, the hum of machine noise. Chatter of people. I open my eyes, the pressure gone. I'm floating at an odd angle, in a large cylindrical shaped room. It must be space, because people are flying around the room, and their clothes and hair drift around them around them airily. They're all dressed in white, remindiing me of nurses and doctors in their attire. White V-necked shapeless blouses with white shapeless pants. They talk, smiles on their faces, energy in their motions. I watch as a man with mousy brown hair and prominent ears on one side of the room launches off of a wall, and flings to the other side, stopping himself on another wall. What his hand grabs interests me. It looks like a white coffin in shape, with an array of buttons and switches on the side, all digital. The Its set length ways, so you see the side of it. Then I notice the the cylindrical room is covered in all sides by these electronic, covered beds. I turn my gaze downwards. But it isn't down really. There are no directions in space. My vision bobs with my head. I flex my fingers and make a pitiful attempt at moving. I'm stuck in the middle of the air. Flapping my arms doesn't help. I sigh and relax, waiting for my barely moving self to float to a wall to jump off of. My feet kick with my dream self. Anyone seeing me no doubt would have been alarmed by my flailing limbs.
The scene changes. My bed. It's daytime. I stare up at my familiar ceiling, feeling disoriented and confused. Sunlight streams through the window, which is odd, because I usually close the curtain when I'm at home. My fingers feel too short, my back feels out of place, my calves and feet aren't right. Then I realize it's not my body. The word 'experiment' floats across my vision, like a single bird passing under a harvest moon. I black out, feeling the sleepy tendrils of the dream world grabbing the edges of my consciousness.
Scene change. I stare down at my school lunch. I feel a sudden lurching nausea, I grab for my milk, start to drink it, and stop myself. "That isn't yours. It doesn't seem to belong to anyone else, but what if it does and someone comes to yell at you for it? You know looking for trouble isn't a good idea." I stare into my half raised bottle, and think long and hard about the memory of getting in line, purchasing the milk, and sitting down. This very milk. yet the memory doesn't feel real. Like an especially good story, told to me some time ago. Reality tugs at me, but my dream holds fast, like a child to your hair. I feel my eyes attempt to flutter open, perhaps to save me from future pain. It doesn't work.
Scene change. Around me in a pentagon shape are four grey walls, paneled and lined with hidden technology, cameras, microphones, and god knows what else. From each of my limbs is a tight, well fitted shackle, but it's not like a shackle how you would think of it. Instead of solid and noisy, and somewhat loose, this shackle conformed to the shape of my ankle , and was tpp dotted with hidden mysteries. the one on my other leg and on my wrists were the same, and the end of the thick cord was hooked to one of the walls. The wall behind me is blank. Above me is blackness, behind me is blackness. I'm laying down, as if in bed. The cords are pulled taut, but not too tight. It held me in place without giving me pain. My dark hair extended out behind me, and my feet were bare. My sweater was a coral red, with a vague gray graphic T shirt and jeans. I don't remember my face. Then again, I rarely do.
My view goes from birds eye, to inside my skull. Sweat cakes my scalp. Under my clothes, I'm clammy and shivering. My eyes pop open, which I feel them do outside of my dream self, and stare around wildly. I see the same place I just described to you, bu somehow darker. I turn my head as far back as it can go, to look at the blank wall. A pair of slanted eyes, red eyes stare back at me. Through a pane of dark glass I didn't notice before, I see a woman. I feel my insides shake with fear and my eyes burn with tears thinking about her now. Do you know the lady from Insidious, the one at the very end dressed in all black? There she was, staring into my soul, grinning. Slowly but surely, she extends her arm out to me and grins anticipatingly."
I throw myself from my dream now. If the dream was meant to go on longer, I would have none of it.
Great, now that I've relived the nightmare, have to sleep with the light on tonight. You readers are lucky I choose to do this dream journal.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 01-02-2013 at 01:53 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
This one is no doubt triggered about me being nervous to go to an event I was invited to... well, a dance a guy I like invited me to.
"I stare down at myself. My brown hair is nicely styled how I would want it to be, gray shirt, thick red and orange striped scarf, jeans and vans. I'm on the sidewalk heading out of my familiar apartment, grass on my right, parking lot on my left, the gate ahead of me. A black van rolls up. Curling my hair behind my ears nervously, I walk through the gate unsteadily towards the van.
Scene change. Inside the van the windows are tinted, and the seats are made of tan leather. A white katana with a golden striped hilt is set aside on the floorboards. On my left is a dark shadow, somehow a dark shadow whom I put my utmost trust into. Ahead of me, illuminated by a streetlight in the drivers seat, is a blonde woman with small shoulders and a bad aura about her. Her, I do not trust. She flips around a hisses at me, mouth open in a sadistic grin, eyes flashing gold like the hilt on the katana. My hands go up automatically to defend myself, and I feel my out of dream self do the same. My face turns away from the monster driving the car, and the scene changes.
Its a large auditorium, with a far off ceiling and seats that curve to wrap gently around a stage. The seats are dark velvet, and the floors are a black carpet spongy to the touch, The stage is a school shade of light wood, heavily shined and waxed. I'm sitting with VX on my left, and the side aisle a few more seats down on the right. Another woman, closer to my own age, comes close. Her shirt is silver and lime green striped, the kind that hangs on your shoulders, and is too short. Under that shirt is a bright pink tank top. Skinny jeans and toms fit the prep look, even the long, straight, blonde hair. Hey face is a blur, but her eyes flash the way VX's mother's did. The fury and straight jealousy seared through my eyes, and I felt the burn of hatred. I sat stiff and rigid as she accused me of taking her man, and her demands to fight. VX pulled at my arm, I could feel his worry and defensive testosterone. I pulled my arm away, then got out of the aisle ungracefully. Out in the wide aisle, she faced me with angry looks and blunt threats, "I'm going to kill you!" "Once you're dead, I'll dance on your grave!" I circled around her slowly, looking for anything that might be of use. She punched first, aiming straight for my face. I ducked uickly, and pulled myself back up just as quickly on one side of her arm. My arm clenched and angry, adrenaline fueled miscle ripples beneath the skin on my forearm, the my lower arm, and the finger curled into a ball. I pulled my fist back, hitting someone in the glasses with my elbow, and punched forward as hard as could. I felt the blow connect, the soft tissue of flesh give way beneath my fist of stone. A tiny snarl escapes my lips. "
For whatever reason, I wake up, at about three o'clock in the morning.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 08-25-2012 at 04:49 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
The Dream
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.
Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere
There was a shutter loose- it screeched!
Swung in the wind- and no wind blowing-
I was afraid and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort-
And you were gone! Cold as the dew,
Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter-
Ah, it is good to feel you there.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
You smell sweeter than I saw you last.
What do you mean?
I remember how you smell. You smell sweeter than before. Blush.
Head down, thinking.
What are you thinking about?
Stuff. Blush.
Like?
You. Nothing bad.
Okay... Head down.
You're too far away.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 08-26-2012 at 03:17 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
This dream is nuts. Apparently, I'm a fairy, everyone is unisex, and I'm growing facial hair!
"The background is a dark abyss. I feel myself, dressed in full fledged black fairy gear and an inch of makeup. My hair feels thick with product, and the tutu flutters and tickles around my thighs. Black tutu, black and chrome corset, black biker jacket with studs, black top hat, black and white diamond pattern leggings, and black leather boots. I'm uncomfortably layered, the clothing is unbearable. I can almost feel the breakout this makeup is going to cause.
My view changes. I see past the side of my angled face, to the two fairy brothers, Dim n Wit, in their pink and purple pandemonium of color and wings. I look closely at Dim, feeling emotions rise in my chest. A sort of reverence, or respect, and then a fear or mistake. Like I'm proud of a accepting the right, but afraid of do wrong by the responsibility.
The scene changes, but my view remains the same, beyond the left side of my face. Now I feel like a child again, instead of a young adult accepting responsibility. I'm at a party, one that starts with adults and children mingling and enjoying the mixed company, and eventually moves into the children moving into a secluded room, while the adults crack sex jokes and speak rudely, thinking we can't hear them clear as day. Yeah, that kind of party. If you've been to one of those. The warm light in Wit's house sheds a homely appeal on everyone.
The scene changes again. I'm at home. I can feel the itch of stubble on my chin, the underside of my chin, and around my cheeks. Mom takes a long look at me, and hands me my stepdad's razor. "Here, you can use his."
Scene change. I'm in my bathroom. The mirror shows my face, slightly thinner, but covered in stubble, like a man's. (And I didn't find this out of the ordinary? Nope. Weird dreams, I know.) I plug in the buzzer in the wall to my right, and hear the buzz start up menacingly. I lean over the counter to get a good look at my face, and slid the razor over my right cheek, and watched the stubble fall in the sink."
My alarm clock goes off. 5:30. Lovely morning, right? Oh wait, there's no sun yet.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I feel that this dream is split into two pieces, with both dreams getting at the same message in a different way. You decide.
"I can see a world. The hills curve upwards at an unrealistic ninety degree angle, close together with green tops covered in grass and randomly scattered orange and yellow flowers. It’s a perfect world. Nothing is wrong, nothing needs to be altered. There is very little animal life.
Suddenly, I feel a disturbance in the force. I zoom into the small path In between the hills. A group or people are hiking. I focus in on an old man, wearing a dark robe and hood. His beard spills out of the robe, and you can see bits of frizzy white hair peeking out of the edges of the hood as well. I can feel rather than see others around him. A dull, busty woman. A large, yeti of a man. A small child, smart but not questioning.
Scene change. I'm seeing a room, but I'm not actually in it. I can feel my essence shifting at an odd angle to fit in this small room with plaster walls, a horrid substance. The room is small. It has an ornate mirror in it, with slightly tarnished metal work. Its full length is a portal. Through it, I can see a blue and grey fog, swirling and twisting. I feel a presence from the portal approach, then settle just on the other side. Death emanates from it. I feel angry, snubbed that this force has been brought into my perfect world! How dare they summon this demon to defile the hills of paradise! The wizard stares solemnly into the mirror, and slowly raises his hand as if to touch the mirror.
Scene change. My hills of green are blanketed in permafrost and snow. The paths in between my unrealistic mounds are filled in nearly to the peaks. My bright sun is gone, beyond wool blankets of blizzard and icy clouds. It's sad here, like pure sorrow and grief hangs in droplets with the ice in the sky. The blue of the mirror matched the emotion filling my hills. I felt a fraction of my previous power. My conscious was groggy, my essence was limited. Below me, in the hills, a large gang of the yeti like man I saw earlier closed in on a small brown shape, moving swiftly on boards of ice. The brown shape is revealed to be a rabbit, hopping at full speed. Not fast enough.
Part 2- A small boy lies on a bed, looking up at the ceiling. His twin bed has a blue covering, but it is not a blue of sorrow and sadness, more like the blue of the night sky, clear and full of possibilities. His eyes matched. The room he is in has two doors into the same hallway.
I turned to watch his mother, with golden hair enter the room. She does not see me like the child does. She can feel my presence, but common sense brushes it off. "How ignorantly stupid you are," I think.
I get an outside view of my body, my 2-D body in a 3-D room, coming out of a hole above his bed. It's like a cartoon hole, with ripples around the edged, like someone moved aside layering in the fabric of reality to make a perfectly round hole, the one I was coming through, twisting and shifting, pushing off the wall to squeeze out of the entrance. Finally I sprang out, he momentum of my arms pushing off the wall carrying me to the other wall of the small room.
My next view is from the mother's perspective. All she sees is a ripple off the wall, and all she hears is a loud thud.
Now I'm in two views at once. Mine and the mother's I stumble backwards from the wall to the end of his bed, and move it about an inch. The mother sees only the ripples where my feet hit the carpet, and then the bed moving.
It's from just my view again. I realize that I've gotten the woman's attention. Fear springs into my heart. "Don't make me go back where I came from! Don't!" I think. I feel the panic rising in the woman's stomach, then into her throat, choking back words. I stumble back into a pile of stuff, then dive into the wall of toys and etc items, hiding from view, though I don't feel like she could see me anyway, just hear me and see the effect my clumsiness had on the environment.
I see it from the mother's view again. She's angry, how dare this thing enter my child's room and such and such. She calls out into the blackness. Feeling stupid, the mother goes to flip on the light. I'm hiding from her, nothing except the boy's slow breathing is moving in the room. I remember her well. Her hair is such a bright red it's almost orange, and so frizzy it looks like she fried it. Her pink, black, and white dress wraps around her wide body unflatteringly, and emphasizes her roles and protruding belly. After a moment of pure silence, she turns the light off, calmly walks over to her child, and kisses him goodnight. She leaves through one of the doors, and shuts another.
Carefully, I move from my hiding place. The boy is looking at me dead on. He understands, this child whose head created me. He looks on wisely, his puff of dark hair protruding off the pillow. Blue eyes. (This sticks in my mind, VX, my boyfriend now, has dark hair and blue eyes) I walk over to his bed, and lay down beside him. Kindred souls, he and I. I realize since I came out of his head, the hole in the wall, I've grown from the two foot cartoon to a five or six foot almost 3-D character.
For whatever reason, I decide to leave his room. My outside self knows that both doors lead to the same hallway, but my dream self doesn't. I walk out, and turn right. A group of adults are staring, hands over their mouths. The run at me, and I run away."
The rest of the dream is a blur of fear and panic, of hunting and being hunted.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 09-18-2012 at 01:59 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
WARNING- CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS, OPEN MINDED PEOPLE ONLY.
Why do people raise their children badly? You hardwire them to think in one way, to think one thing and never explore what could be, or simply make them inable to explore what could be. I am so sick of coming across other children completley brainwashed in their religion, "You just don't get it. It has to be that way." "Why?" I ask. Why is my favorite word, but no one seems to use it very often. Questions are the basis of evolution and new ways of thinking, but the way we're headed now is backwards.
I see much less advertisements for useless things like cigarettes and casinos now, in replace of things helping the environment. I am proud of that generation that is heading forward in environmental awareness. "Fight the grease monster, scrap, don't rinse." Have you heard that one? It's trying to tell you to throw away your food instead of throwing it down the disposal. A simple, nonprofit advertisement to help people.
Love. I try to avoid this topic, but it's been coming up lately. That's all I need to say about that.
Religion. How have people changed the way we worship and believe? Why is there a song about sacrificing lambs in the songbook of the most popular religion in the United States? Do we ever sacrifice lambs here? No! why would you! What did that poor lamb do to be sacrificed and a song written about killing it!
( http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/a/r/aruwashd.htm )
Abortion. What if a woman was raped? "There's programs for that." Oh, I'd love to hear about it. "Adoption." Do you have any idea how emotionally scarring it is for a child to grow up without a parent figure period? Foster homes are not ideal! And the moment you set eyes on a child that came out of you, you feel the pull of keeping the child, whether or not it's best for the child or not. It's our genetic makeup to want to raise our children. You're not thinking of what's best for the unborn child, you're thinking about what's best for you and your conscious.
Marriage. On a certificate of marriage, it says "Joined by Jesus Christ." The federal government has nothing to do with marriage between two people, gay, straight, transgender, or otherwise, because it is purely a religious tradition that has spread, like Christmas. Can the government limit Christmas? No. So why does it limit marriage?
Those have been my pointless statements of the day, thank you.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I remember when all there was was anger. A furious rage at the men who abandoned me. How dare those excuses of fathers break their promises. It must be something to do with me, because it's happened twice, right?
I remember when I was shorter than the rest, but everyone was still afraid of my double bladed tongue and backstabbing words. Don't come at me with an argument, or you'd leave with your tail in between your legs and your hands covering your bruises. Don't play football with me, I'm the most brutal tackler on the team, even though I'm female. Don't try and approach me personally, you'll leave with your ego sliced in two.
Hate. I hated all of you who didn't feel the pain, the torment. The bountiful scrapes and fatal wounds covering my soul and my psyche were bleeding negativity all over my friends. They burned and ached with frustration and crimson fury, lit up with the flame of longing. My fists were my friends.
Then I remember you.
You don't know this. I don't know if you ever will. But you saved me from my own self destruction. I could feel the akin waves of anger and deep rooted sorrow, and it made me reflect. How is this helping anyone, this rage? It takes energy, and pushes people away. Your eyes are an icy blue with flaming undercurrents.
From that point forward, you were my crusade. I wanted to help you like you had subliminally helped me. I wanted to be your crutch, your confidante, and the person you looked up to.
Then I loved you.
Later when every cell of my being was torn with indecision and another form of abuse, you helped me again, out of conscious decision. I would be raped and possibly dead right now, at this very moment if you weren't there to be my crutch, my confidante, the person i look up to. Anything you need, I will give it.
And here we are now.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 09-28-2012 at 01:08 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
"It starts in a large auditorium shaped room. People fill every seat. I'm sitting sidelong to the stage, the tiers behind me are high, almost too high for stairs. The room is barley lit at all, deep darkness populated by invisibly staring eyes creep into corners of my vision. The mood is slightly anxious, nervous. I don't know what I'm expecting, just that I'm expecting something.
Soon, lights go up on the bottom of the sleek black stage in front of me. I'm not listening to anything, but I understand what's going on. A very powerful man dressed in an equally black suit is on the front right corner of the stage. His skin is reminiscent of native american descent, and his graying hair produces and aura of power and untouchability. There are no guards around him, but I didn't take that to mean that he wasn't protected. For all I know, there are snipers in the ceiling.
Hes talking animatedly to the crowd. I feel wary of him, but an irrefutable sense of duty. Competition around me stirs. We feel the same, them and I. Who could win his favor? Who could stay in his favor? Sidelong glances at each other. It's mostly men, and my femininity makes them feel dominant. Good, that means arrogance and I have the upper hand already.
I'm understanding and comprehending what he says, though I don't hear his words exactly. He wants a present for his little girl, a four year old very in to arts and crafts. For this challenge, we're allowed into the city.
People around me start running. I've teamed up with someone, another female. I don't trust her, but I need someone who knows their way around town.
The town is filled with old stone work, tall towers with ridges and lines cut into sandy rock. We enter one such tower, feeling a sense of power. The girl, who has sandy blonde hair and eyes like the night sky, or the ocean at midnight, explains what the power is. It's a knot of energy in the world, something that happens often in this area, and it will be whatever you will it to be.
We pounce and tumble up many flights of stone stairs in the tower. I get preoccupied with watching my feet, carefully trying not to trip up the stairs, like I do all the time. I get so preoccupied, that the girl disappears. I look around for her, to see if she's ahead of me, but no luck. She's vanished without a trace. "I have to get busy, I don't have much time."
I stop about 3/4 of the way up the tower. Something shines at me above my head. White light surrounds something invisible, but I can feel it drawing my eyes to the spot where it should be. I close my eyes and think hard. The back of my eyelids are a black that remind me of the slick stage, where my pile of arts and crafts should be. A large blurry bag appears. I open it and look inside. A metal can full of colored pencils, another bag full of markers, scissors, and other crafty accessories.
Scene change. I'm back at the vast auditorium. A pile of cans of crayons is piled up, with my bag leaning on it. Everyone seemed to go to restaurants and pick up children's crayons. That was the victory, they all did the same thing while I stood out with my prize. The man examined my back carefully. He asked his secretary something I didn't hear. Then he turned towards me, legs twisting somewhat to see my small face.
Scene change. He's in front of me now. He looks at me with an odd look on his face. The mand pints briefly with his fingers and shoulder behind him, "Did you do that?" I nod simply. His eyes crinkle in approval, and the strange man nods positively.
Scene change. I feel the thrill of many more challenges passing, many more victories to gain his approval. Us children, we have ranks now, and I'm at the top, his right hand man. The ego must be getting to me, because the tension in my shoulders relaxes. Someone near me, a nobody, says a stupid statement or question. I hate stupid people. I snap at him sharply, feeling that i was doing the right thing and protecting the lord's ears. My 'lord' stares me in the face with disappointment. He points to the spot where we all started, "Go." I turn with confusion and shock.
Scene change. I feel the burning of an emotional spew behind my eyelids, but I push it away. Tears will not help me now. I stare out at the auditorium again, but now more than half of the people had left. I was no longer in close quarters with my fellow peers, most of them had taken their place on the stage, ranking in the old man's favorites. Looking around, the room isn't as dark with most of the people gone. The black corners are a light grey with contours I now recognize. No mysteries hid from me anymore, teasing tendrils of my childish imagination.
I turn my black gaze to the man on stage. He no longer seems so godly, but now like a pedo. I've lost my respect for him, but still feel angry that the shut me out. Why?
Scene change. All I can see is a blurred shot of a silver blade running into a black wall. I feel the satisfaction of release, and the soft fabric that covers the wall gives in easily. My anger fades with the blade in the wall."
2:37 in the morning, VX texts me. I respond groggily, then slap my phone back down on the coffee table in the unfamiliar living room. My head slips back down into the couch cushions.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 10-08-2012 at 04:36 PM. Reason: P3N!5 PURPLE PINEAPPLES
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
BEFORE YOU READ- This dream makes no sense in the basics of making sense! These people are dressed like they walked out of the stone age, but they pilot a spaceship like they've done it all their lives. WHAT?!
"Round with dials and switches in the walls and odd shapes of silver and bronze, the room is astoundingly complex. How could anyone remember what all those buttons do?! They all look the same to me, repeated patterns of squares and rectangles of color, dull buttons and gleaming levers and dials. The room is shaped like the control room off of the Star Trek Enterprise, with the commander in the center and everyone else around the edges of the room. A man sits in the middle. I recognize him. Either he's important to me or he is me, I can't tell, but the dream is told from his point of view. All the men in the room, including 'me', have long beards, bulky iron armor, animal furs as clothing, and barbaric helmets with horns or plated metal with etched designs of war. I remember one design clearly; A dragon with birdlike wings carry off a soldier with streaming hair over a mountain. The design is caked with dried blood, you would need a blade to scrape the red out of the crevices.
Back to me. I sit in the middle. I have long, reddish brown hair with a beard that hangs airily to my waist. I have a heavy iron chest plate and shield, with shoulder pads, thigh guards, shin guards, and iron tipped unsuspecting shoes. A large wooden club with dull metal spikes hangs at my waist, on my left waist hands a thin, sharp sword in a thin scabbard. People report statistics and progress to me, but I don't hear exactly what they say, I just know that everything is normal. But I feel tense. My spider sense is tingling. I bark out some commands, and my crew follows instantly, not questioning my decisions or even wondering what the reason could be. They trust and respect me completely without question or flaw. Amazing.
My vision goes black. I sense a large presence, huge in its mind. An old enemy greets me from space.
Panic sets in. Lights flicker, my crew panics when control of the ship is taken from them. Bronze and golden turrets pop out of hidden crevices and panels in the ceiling and walls, pointing coldly and emotionless to my crew and I.
Scene change. Ironic, we're trapped in out own silver cell. This room lacks the common shade of bronze I've been seeing everywhere. I don't see mush of the surroundings, just an above view of the tops of some heads and helmets. I'm pacing, like I do outside of dreams when I'm upset. Others are sitting, or standing calmly. I'm agitated, but forming a plan in my head. It stays for a moment before flicking away.
Scene change. A few members of my crew, those who were in that cell with me, sneak around familiar hallways with me in the lead. No one is on the ship, all the controlling is off, but we see evidence of their molestation. A torn circuit here, a scratch on the floor there, and the control room is locked from the inside. We make it to another room, where the decor is refreshingly different. To my left, on the was was a large cylindrical shaped disk with raised edges hanging on the wall. There were evenly placed rings, counting to around 12 or 15. A few feet in front of me and slightly to my right is a red velvet chair with golden embroidering and dark metal bands where the cloth connecting to the wood underneath. In front of that was a glass table held up by swirling bands of dark metal like the bands on the chair. Several similar chairs were seated around it. A large, dark velvet couch was behind that, and behind that was I think a wall sized mirror, or the rest of the room was shaped mirror like. Farther to my right, the room turned sharply like a blocky S with similar decor. At the turn there was a huge metal contraption like a wide, short tube pointing downwards. It almost looked like someone took a spark plug, expanded it to seventy five times it original size, and then squished it down to two and a half feet long, hanging from the ceiling.
In my mind's eye, I see a man. It's the same large black being in my head as before, but he's put on the face of one of my old officers. I recognize him and my heart leaps for a moment, but something is wrong. This seems to be like a prerecorded message. He's telling me what to do, as if I was one of his servants or officers. He's gesturing to the square piece on the wall beside me, then at the giant squished spark plug. Light pours out of the square in a beam of white. I realize that my officer had betrayed me. My eyes go dark with rage.
After a few moments of indulging my anger, I turn my attention to the light. It's hitting a mirror on the floor and going into the spark plug. But that's not right, the spark plug tip is round while the light is square. I walk towards the mirror, and pick it off the ground, realizing there are several mirrors stacked here. I don't remember my exact pattern, but I placed mirrors about the room at different spots. In the very back of the room is a square, glass, covered and unsuspecting glass set. On a whim, I point the light here. Something clicks in my mind, and I jump for joy, realizing I solved the puzzle!"
And I wake up to my alarm going off angrily.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 10-19-2012 at 10:20 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
☴☲☱ Life's like a lesson, you learn it when you're through.
That doesn't seem fair. For a lot of people, every day, life is like trudging through a thick pool of mud, never seeming like they'll reach the end of their story. And some people don't even have endings, they die before their special finale. I want to be able to skip to my ending, be reassured that everything will be okay in the end, don't you? If you had the chance to jump forward in time for ten seconds and see how your life turns out, would you? I think I would.
But isn't that the same as reading the last few sentences in the book when you've only read the first few pages? You don't ever understand the ending, not at first, until you read the entire book and find out what those few sentences really mean. So, does that mean the journey is more important than the end, though the point of the journey is to get to the end?
If it's that way in a book, why wouldn't it be that way in real life?
Because books have happy endings.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I've got quite the nightmare in store for you, readers. My mother reffered to it as two parts paranormal and one part bloody. Vewer discretion is advised, once I get the time to type it up. What's interesting is that I'm only a side character in this story. The best parts of the dream, epic battle and whatnot, happen away from me.
"It starts like any strange dream would, with major details correct, and everything else is totally wrong. I don't remember the beginning of the dream well, but I do remember the feel. It's a big school, hundreds or even maybe thousands of kids. Enormous for a school, even a high school. I'm intimidated, but not all that much. Mostly wary, actually, aware of my surroundings and the kind of people I drift around. Ghetto, confrontive, and (generally, not everyone) not the sharpest tool in the shed. I feel them move around me as if I'm in slow motion and the rest of the world is at a normal pace. Blurred, and dark.
Quickly, the scene changes. The school feels just as big, but with few students. Here, I can see my dream rather than feel it again. Paneled and layered wood curve to make steps and square seats, like the trim on a wall in a cheap apartment, all made of dark and light shades of wood, mixed. Someone is laying on her stomach across one of these ridiuclous square chairs, when she looks up from her children's book and beams at me brightly. She has long, thin darkk hair, light skin, and a layer of fat all over her. Her overall demeaner was poisoningly happy and bright. Behind me and slightly to my right, a boy leaned against a wall that expanded into stairs next to him. His face was down, and he was cast in a dark shadow, but his aura reminded me of the old west. I could imagine that dark shadow in a cowboy hat, boots, a snub nose or old school revolver or both on his hip, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. That image burns into my while i rapidly take stock of the other two here, One of them is foreign, indian i think. The other reminds me of S of MLB, blonde and fluffy, happy.
Scene change. The five of us are huddled together, small light shining above us. The light is what my eye goes to first, hanging from a chain from the ceiling and shaking, yet the light on our faces didn't move. I found that odd.
We're fearful. whispering together like frightened children, we interrupt each other with hisses and small growls. A thump comes from the ceiling above us, shedding bits of dirt and plaster upon our heads. I feel it hit my face, yet don't see it land on anyone else, or see it land on me for that matter. Also strange.
Our hisses and whispers fall deathly silent, eyes turning upwards slowly. Fear makes my heart race, and adrenaline begins to pump. Something is here, something we didn't invite, something that came from the other side, a voice in my mind whispers helpfully, yet unhelpfully. The beating in my heart grew faster, and my breathing rate increased silently. Our ears strain for any other noise. Something bangs three times on the door, then footsteps run away thumping on the floor like it was a fully grown man. Everyone in the closet screams like a girl, except me. All I can produce is a wheeze, barely any breath being forced through my throat. This is reminiscent of my childhood nightmares, when screaming mas my secret weapon that failed every time.
The next scene is an angry panicked blur of running from a dark, tentacled blur. I'm upstairs, running down a hallway of no color. I look behind me quickly, and the thing runs around the corner I just came around, and chases to get me. I jump through a door, but realize that It's just another dead end, and I turn to run out... but the black and red monster stands there, silently.
I flip my head and look around the room frantically for something, anything to use as an escape tool, or a weapon. The room is empty, with peeling grey wallpaper of faded flowers and splintered wooden floor boards. When my gaze landed on the thing chasing me again, he was three feet closer. I scream again, a wheezing squeak of moving air. One of his slimy, dark crimson tentacles shoot up my body, and I black out.
Scene change. I feel a piece of the thing resting like an enormous knot in my stomach. Pregnant with its child. Fire burns around me, but I don't know where I am. I get a view of myself from in front of me. A hospital gown, light green and covered in dark red splotches and smears of dirt and other things. Dark, swampy hair covers my face and extends nearly to my knees. I'm pale and malnourished. (I didn't think of this in the dream, but it almost seems like I blacked out for a while longer than I thought) For a moment, I'm free floating in the air, nothing holding me up. I can feel the anger and focus some distance away, rooms away to be specific. They're fighting a huge battle, but that only distracts me for a moment. I refocus on the thing in my stomach.
My feet hit the floor lightly, spread out and braced for impact. I can feel the layers and chunks of dirt- or is that blood- all over my toes and feet.
I'm pulling the thing out of me, both hands stuck on a red black tentacle. It's slimy and wet, like its coated in my blood, but I dig my fingernails and tug as hard as I can. I scream, this time with real sound. The scream is surprisingly deep, rough and comes from my stomach instead of my throat. My voice grates smooth yet rough in my mind.
Scene change. I'm back in the first room, with paneled wood and strange chairs. There are more spots of dirt everywhere, but I feel complete, like I've finished what needed to get done. This feels like the end of a story, relaxed. The girl, with jeans, a white flowing shirt, brown hair and a ditzy smile, says something and turns to leave. As she's walking out, the boy across from me looks at me directly, black pupils and irises scaring me a little. As he stares, he grins slowly, and the blackness of his pupils extends to cover his entire eye. His teeth are pointed, and a slithery, black, tentacle-like tongue slips out and licks his lips.
In return, I stare him in the face, and feel the numbing feeling of my eyes doing the same thing. I grin, elated that more than one bit of me survived. I grind my teeth and look to stare out the archway the girl just left out of. "
I wake up thirty minutes earlier than I'm supposed to, and stare at the wall in thought, recording every detail of the dream in my memory.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 10-19-2012 at 10:28 PM. Reason: ICP RULES
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
© Marty Pijanowski
I have fought the feelings
And emotions inside
That fills and empties me,
Like a fast rolling tide
There are moments of pain
Of sorrow and hate
Leaving me to ponder.
Many hours of late
I love you honey.
It’s your presence I miss.
And I terribly long
For that one last kiss
But the greatest pain of all
That hurts me so deep,
Is after giving you my love
I can’t have yours to keep
To have you by my side
Always longing for more,
And have you feel the same,
To mutually adore
You see my love; I have given you my heart
And revealed the depths of my soul
And now I am left feeling hopelessly empty,
Paying this immeasurable toll.
It’s selfish I know
to feel this way
But it’s how I feel,
each and every day
Always hoping and praying
For the next time we meet
For you to allow me, once again
To feel complete
And rest assured
I WILL see you again
For it’s not a question of if
But a question of when.
And when that time comes
I’ll be in total bliss
For no longer will I wait
For that one last kiss.
Source: One Last Kiss, Wife Death Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poe...#ixzz29mp4ZkQR
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
It screams everything going inside my head at the moment, I had to post it.
---------- Post added at 05:49 PM ---------- Previous post was at 05:20 PM ----------
They say if you love something, set it free. It it returns, it was meant to be.
I feel like I've been kicked out more than set free, so do I return, or stay where I am?
-------
Everything is a blur lately. My thoughts turn darker each day. I'm suddenly aware of all the freedom I have, the periods of time that I can do whatever I want, including something to end it all.
I've been counting. Only two days have passed since the fire in my chest turned into a icy stone, and I'm feeling the toll of it already. How can I survive the rest of the life like this, when I barely have the energy to make it through one day? I'm supposed to think happy thoughts, right? But every moment I might have to try and think happy things, something else clouds my inner vision. The guilt at causing such a chain reaction, the pain of losing someone.
-------
I've ventured into a cave, but my partner abandoned me, thinking I've betrayed him when I've not. Wandering around in the dark, a stalactite pierces me from above. I'm stuck here, with my only hope vanishing further and further away in the wet darkness hanging like a foul blanket. No matter what I do, I can't get up, and the only thing that can come out of my mouth is a wheezy whisper that has no effect in these demented tunnels.
-------
So many thoughts are going through my brain. I pushed him to the limit, everything leading up to this is my fault, so this must be my fault as well. It's nothing I had control over, I shouldn't worry about it. He's not worth your time, just forget him. Maybe something could be salvaged.
But one thing is clear: It's my fault.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
A bit disturbing.
"VX looks at me blankly. The entire room is dark, except the blue-grey ground beneath my feet. He's wearing a dark grey button up, jeans, and the converse he loved so much before he burned a hole in them by accident. His skin is pale and creamy, free of any acne (Unlike outside of dreams), and his eyes flash a bright blue, contrasting easily with his dark hair. He looks a little bit different in my dreams than outside of them. I'm aware of the common flexible barrier I see between us. It looks like glass, but when you touch it, it ripples outwards like thick water.
An angry pulse in my head distracts me from the image of VX before me. My eyes close, and the vision of VX blurs before returning just like before. With the pulsing of my head, the 'glass' before me ripples with a light green color. Out of either temple comes a blast of neon green light and dust, reminding me of animations of supernovas exploding, but coming from my skull.
I fall to my knees, holding my head in my hands. The grey blue floor makes a loud crack sound as my knees smack into them mercilessly. To my right, everyone I care about appears, family, friends I've known forever, friends from school. They fade to nearly transparent, not altogether. A few body lengths down is where the last person fades. Vx makes the fist move since he entered this dream. His eyes follow the line of people as I watch him, vision blurring some from the pain in my skull. The throbs from my skull increase in tempo, sending super nova bursts from my temples through their knees.
Suddenly, all people fade to nothing, except for one. Far down the list, a male friends from school (CL) brightens to full solidity. Will points at him, and traces his finger through the air on his end of the glass towards me. Following his finger perfectly, CL slides to stand next to my crumpling body, like a swipe on a smartphone.
Vx's expression changes completely. He stares into my eyes accusingly, and the throbbing in my skull is forgotten, though the green blasts continue. A black hole appears in his chest, oval shaped in his abdomen. Crackling orange embers ate at his body. I felt a strong pain in my own chest and looked down. A wide hole in my own chest appeared, with green embers eating at my soul. I cast my gaze upwards, yelling at the glass in panic. Vx has vanished from sight.
My fists curl against the floor beneath me. A green ember falls from my chest. When it hits the grey blue floor, it changes shades slowly to a dull red, and burns a small hole through the glass.
Blasts of green from my temples knock CL over, finally hitting him in the knees. He falls, and also vanishes. I'm now completely alone.
Tears stream from my face. The blasts from my head increase in tempo and intensity, and the shade fades from neon green to dull orange, reminiscent of the embers in Vx's chest. The embers on my own chest burst into an outright orange flame, eating me up much faster. The pain is debilitating- I can't take it anymore. I stare at the cracked, scorched blue grey glass beneath my knees, and punch a fist through it.
I'm falling now. My chest is whole, the blasts from my temples are gone, and the tears stop. I watch the world disappear into the gloom, and relinquish myself to the fall into death."
I wake up with the blanket on the other side of the room, at six o'clock on a day that I don't actually have to be awake yet.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 10-21-2012 at 07:26 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
My special someone and I parted ways, completely, no communication ever again.
I'm so tired. I would describe it as getting world weary, but perhaps that isn't the proper way to express it. I am so sick of everyone, everything. You're all to bright. You all live in such bright corners with blinding sunlight, my eyes don't want to adjust anymore. I'm so tired of all of it, all of you. Everything I do has a dark streak or twist to it, apparently so deep that you don't comprehend, or you do, but remain ignorant to its deeper meaning. I listen to my dear friends, 'Does he, like, feel that way? I totally can't believe he would, like, do that!' Jesus christ, get a life.
At the same time as being disappointed and disgusted by others, I am far more ashamed of myself. Me, the one person who swore I would not fall into that trap that every other teen girl stumbles into headfirst, blindly fell into a relationship, interpreting it to have a much deeper meaning that it did. Yea, I believed completely that he and I would last, clinging to one another while the world rages around us in a never ending war over petty things. Looking back on myself, I hurt even more knowing that I could have prevented the pain if I had bothered to think without letting my emotions entangle my state of mind. I'm furious, ashamed, disgusted by myself just as much as I am disappointed, exhausted, sick of the outside world.
Leave my to my dark corner, forget I ever existed.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 11-10-2012 at 02:29 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
"I'm an apartment, DF's apartment, my recent stepfather. This is nothing like his actual house however, though I wasn't thinking like that at the time. The colors of the house are pale, boring, light grey, white, and a shade of tan that barely makes it any brighter. Directly to my left is a large, hardwood table, seen through a pale lens of colorlessness. Farther forward of that it a kitchen, with marble tops and light grey counters, still no contrast or brightness. To my right, and slightly forward is a living room. The wraparound couch is pale tan, badly accentuated with white and light grey pillows. I take a few steps into the living room, and soft plush meets my toes. Looking down, there is light grey fluffy carpet in between my feet. A foggy glass sliding door at the end of the living room. I sense rather than feel the other people in the house. DF, my stepdad, MOM, my mother (Who else?), and my stepbrother, CC. The rest of my immediate family is nowhere to be found, but my thoughts barely brush upon this subject without any feeling of alarm or surprise.
Scene change. I'm outside. The sky is a bright blue and the grass is so light it almost looks like frosting. The fence is a wooden color, pale by any normal standards, but neon in comparison to the inside of this house. Our house/apartment rests on the side of a hill, and I see thousands more of the houses spread around us. The hill is alarming steep. A fence surrounds our house except for a small break in the back right corner. Accompanied by neighborhood kids and my brother, CC, I run towards the exit, looking for something adventurous.
The rest is a joyful and exciting blur of running around the hillside, and finding an odd stairway that circles downwards. The end of the 'hill' is actually a small hang over, and the staircase is a circular structure leading to a raised concrete wall with a little over a foot of space under it. I remember running down these stairs, feet hitting it and making a loud ringing sound due to the metal structure, even with the actual steps being made of concrete. I remember worming under the wall with someone, hiding and trying to muffle my laughter and quick breathing.
Later, I return home, the night sky looking purple, with amazing white lights of a variety of sizes glinting down on use like a cartoon sky.
Scene change. I'm farther into the living room now, and it's later in the day, according to the sunlight streaming through the glass door. No one is here with me anymore, except KC sitting on the pale couch. She's doing something. It feels like she's watching a movie or playing a game, but I can't see what she's watching or playing. Odd. I ask her where my phone is, and she turns her head to me quickly before turning it back, light hair flying wildly, emphasizing her youth. She directs me to the kitchen, but doesn't know for sure. I walk into the kitchen, The floor is a pale marbled tile, pale cabinets with stone tops. Every piece of kitchenware is hidden from sight, very unusual for our house. You would see a cast iron tool at the very least sitting on the stove, but none of the usual tools are sitting on the counters. I look around me, not seeing it on the gleaming counter tops.
Somehow I determine that the last place I had it was outside. I head out with a cell phone, calling my own phone. I kneel down to use gravity to my advantage, sliding down the steep hill speedily, heading towards the stairway. I run down the stairs in a similar manner that I did the night before, but stop halfway, looking down at the dirty patch of grass on the other side of the wall. I don't see a ringing phone, and am about to leave, but I do see something. A black flip phone with an orange back sits there open. I get halfway through a thought, "MY PHONE IS PURPLE, THAT'S NOT---" but the dream takes over, and I can feel half of myself getting excited and running for the phone. I crawl under the wall, my small chest rubbing on the concrete floor and my back rubbing on the thick wall above me. Anxiously, i hurry over to the other side and pick up the phone, still on my stomach. It's not ringing, and the thought finally gets through to me that that was never my phone to begin with. Suddenly, I'm aware of something vibrating in my hand. I look down to the hand that was holding the phone I was calling myself with. Amazingly, I was holding my familiar purple phone. The familiar button reading 'Answer' greeted my like the gates of heaven. "
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 11-16-2012 at 12:38 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I almost want to call this strangest dream of the year.
"I have a feeling of mourning the passing of a loved one. The whole family does. By family, I mean our family of apparent cy-borgs. We have oversize, false looking heads attached to spring-like legs upon which we could tiptoes quieter than fly or spring across the skies like a fantastical rabbit. We’re metal, with open loops and curls about our frame as if for decoration. Our home is almost like a spaceship, triangular in shape, tapering up slowly like a large metal mountain. It seemed to be at least a football field or two wide. My parents aren’t the parents I have outside of the dream world. They’re uptight with false smiles and cold hearted eyes. I don’t even feel a small liking for them. The only other person here is my brother, CC His face doesn't look right. The skin is pulled tightly over his features, making his cheekbones stand out. His face is cement, but the voice and feeling behind it remains the same. “We need to get out,” he says. The depression isn't getting better cooped up at home.
Scene change. I see the house thing outside. Crooked metal stair extend from the tip of the triangular shaped ship-house. It reminds me of a ship I saw on the front of a Lego star wars ship box. A large green field, enormous, spreads out in all directions. It curls away from me like a sphere, almost as if I’m on a tiny earth, so small that you can see it’s curvature. The grass outside is bright yellow-ish. The blue sky is a dainty shade of sky blue, no cloud to be seen. No sun to be seen either.
Scene change. This seems like a family reunion. People similarly shaped as us bounce around, greeting us with old lines, 'Oh how you've grown!' 'You're gonna grow up to be a beautiful lady someday!' 'You're such a good kid!' You know, the usual. I sit patiently, holding my anxiety inside and putting on a quiet, good girl face. I even cross my ankles and clasp my hands in my lap, with the hair on my morphed face done all nice and neatly.
One uncle comes up to us. He has no decorating loops or swirls of metal, just the plain rods that seem to have glory in their simplicity. He seems to understand how I feel and see through my act as well as I saw through his decor-less rods of metal. He talks to me for a moment, and I feel at ease with him there. CC walks over, and starts to talk with us. Moments later, the cool uncle is sitting us down on the couch and thrusting game controllers in our hands. A play station 2 flips on, and an ancient television set flickers to life.
scene change. I'm in the game now. The strangest game ever. The place in the game is like a room seen from afar with many levels that your character can hop to and move around with. Our characters are healthy breakfast choices. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sticky pancakes, etc.
It's a blur of exciting moves and a mix of won and lost games after that. I go from eggs to pancakes to bacon back to pancakes again. I bounce around and make sounds similar to old Mario games, and the buttons in my hands are clicked and held in rapid succession. I feel a grin growing on my face outside of my sleep, and I turn to my left side and curl up a little.
The last scene is a zoom in picture of my character. a floppy pair of taco-shaped pancakes, it's cartoonish IHOP eyes are accompanied by a cheeky grin and white gloved hands. I don't know if I won or not, but I feel happy."
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
The cool faux leather was the typical cool blue color of the inside of a hospital. The headrest cupped the back of my skull gently, but it didn't soothe me from me fear. I turned my attention out the window, where a large tractor was mercilessly tearing down what seemed to be an old house. The large lumps of bricks and wood made me almost sad fro its destruction.
A nurse coughed as she entered the room behind me. She was young, with dark hair that was held back by a slim ponytail that extended past her waist. Flipping the hair out of her face, she turned her attention to the computer screen which I was assume had my chart on it. A few moments passed. She and two other doctors walked in and out of the room, asking questions about my tooth and making sure it was the right one. Finally, after what seemed like days, a dentist settled down on either side of me. On my right, a girl with dark skin and short dark hair sat, relaxed. I would later learn that she was a fill in for a doctor who was gone for the day. On my left, the girl I described earlier, with the long ponytail. It was exactly her fourth day on the job, her second week working, or so she told me earlier.
The woman on my right lowered the back of the chair using levers at her feet. I watched to world turn, legs already shaking. Then, she put her hand up to turn on the bright light above my head. I squinted slightly.
"Are you nervous?" She asked.
Nodding slightly, "Yes." My voice was smaller than normal. I cleared my throat in an attempt to sound a bit more solid.
"Don't be, it's just a tooth pull. Easy." she turned her head to retrieve something. At the same time, the nurse on my left got up quickly and lunged around the edge of my 'bed' unstably. The right nurse handed me a pair of goggles, and the left exclaimed a small, 'Oh!' before returning to her seat. The doctor on my right, who was to be the one actually working on me, leaned over my face. I opened my mouth reflexively. She used a mirror to look at the tooth. It was a baby tooth that never fell out. When your baby teeth fall out, it's because there's an adult tooth just behind it, eating at the baby tooth's roots for food, to make your adult teeth stronger. My baby tooth and my adult tooth weren't aligned properly, and instead of the baby tooth falling out with the adult tooth growing in its place, the adult tooth managed to miss the baby tooth entirely and grew in front of it at an awkward angle. My baby tooth was to get pulled today. I was running over the guidelines in my head. No straws, no hot drinks, no carbonated drinks, no food unless its lukewarm to warm and mushy and soft, like soup o mashed potatoes, no spitting or sucking, and no horseplaying.
The doctor pointed out a cavity that wasn't there on my last visit before going to work. She pulled out an elongated Q-tip with red jelly, warning me that it tasted disgusting. The jelly went into my mouth swishing around my gum line and around the tooth. Next was the syringe. As the inserted the needle and a small pricking sensation drove my nerves up a wall, my arms and legs started to quiver, and my fists balled up tightly. My nails digging into my own soft flesh, I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to slap the needle away.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I'm starting to notice a pattern. Hormones influence my dreams. I'd love to share the pattern with you, but the information might not be socially acceptable, considering the people on this site without ovaries.
I'm at my school. Light brown portables connected by outdoor walkways are accentuated by free-flowing grass and warm sunlight, a brief, heated relief from the icy winds of the season. I step from the pale gravel near the parking lot to the steps leading upwards to the elevated walkways and portable classrooms.
Scene change. I'm in the courtyard, but my attention isn't on the scenery this time. I'm looking at the face in front of me, all my attention stuck on his smiling face. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his smile is wide. Soft brown hair sits over his forehead. I can feel a smile covering my own face, and giggles worthy of a three-year old escape my lips without shame. My hands block his attempts to catch me off guard. (This might sound odd to other people, but it's simple play-fighting. He always wins. It helps with my reflexes and keeps me on my toes for the zombie apocalypse in the future.) I'm moving backwards, away from his approach, like always. Abruptly, I throw myself into hyper drive and gain the upper hand, pushing him onto the wooden benches. CL sits, the wood taking him just above the back of his knees. A look of mischievous inspiration crosses his face, and he takes advantage of my alarming lack of balance and pulls me towards him.
Instinctively, I turn my face so that our noses don't crash ungracefully. The collision stops suddenly, my mouth less than an inch from his. I can almost feel the heat of his face on my own, or is that my blushing? For a moment, I get caught in his nearness. My heart pounds in my ears, and I feel the familiar flush across my cheeks. A sincerely pleased grin grows on his face slowly with his awareness of my discomfort. I pull myself upright with exaggerated calmness, and quickly accelerate across the courtyard, up the stairs, and direct my attention to a small group of well-placed friends. Waiting on my heart to settle, I shoot a backward glance over my shoulder to see him lounging with a self-satisfied expression on his face. Angry and embarrassed, I return my gaze to the group of trustworthy females in my vicinity, L', BLST, K', and DB.
Scene change. It's either later in the day or the same time another day. CL and I are at it again, jabbing and tickling like children. The only thing different is the knowing expression on his face, and the vulnerability I feel quivering in my chest.
---------- Post added at 07:57 PM ---------- Previous post was at 07:27 PM ----------
I'm starting to consider an end to posting. Too many people who are close to me outside the real world look here and judge me off of the things that go through my head when I'm sleeping or awake. I have no control of these things, so why are you judging me? Do I judge you because of that one dream you had that would be rated X? No. So back off. Judge me off of my decisions, not my subconscious.
Now that that's out of the way, I'll get back to my blurbing now.
``````~~~~~~~~~---^v^v^v^v^----~~~~~~~~````````
I've been thinking about good and bad a lot lately. What makes a bad decision bad, and what makes a good decision good? What defines good and bad?
If you really think hard enough, they're just concepts; ideas. Something that benefits a society as a whole is preferred over something that will benefit only a few people. I'm normally against anything having to do with religion or morals instilled into children at a young and sensitive age, but aren't we all affected by early teachings of what's good or not? You know what's good, not because you studied it or it's intuition, but because someone told you before you could wrap your mind around the concept fully. Is it a good thing to teach a child what's right and wrong before they can decide for themselves, or is it bad? I'm very much against teaching religion at that young age, so why are the concepts of right and wrong any different? I can't use the excuse 'Because it's the right thing to do' because the word 'right' is a variable subject itself.Anything can be called right, and said 'right' thing would be a correct assumption to some people and an incorrect assumption for others, making the word 'good' 'right' correct' variable and useless terms. Yet it's still quite necessary.
I'm going to be Sherlock Holmes when I grow up. I've already memorized my school bathroom, so next time someone moves the decorations, I will know (not that it would be useful). I need to be more aware of my surroundings and what gets moved on a day-to-day basis. I need to learn a little about everything, have small details about everything in the world stored in my brain. I need to think backwards. The vase is broken on the floor. How did that happen? Someone pushed it. The underside of her raincoat collar is wet, which is currently folded down. Why? She turned her coat collar up against the rain and strong wind to protect her neck and hair. Someone's shoes are covered in water, but the rest of them is dry. Walking through wet grass or deeper water. Look for traces of mud and vegetation. What if the inside of the shoes are wet, but not the outside? Perhaps the person was wearing soaked shoes before, but changed into another pair with their sopping socks.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I hate the book, but I have to steal an analogy from Twilight. When one thing was a part of my universe, the stars were bright, and the star representing that thing shone like the sun, but the area around it was blacker than black, and I could feel hidden secrets behind the darkness. When it left, my entire world was like the inside of a dead Imax theater. Black, dark, but not holding anything. Just nothingness, with maybe one or two points of light existed. The world was flat, grey, completely unremarkable in anything other than its pain, its constant suffering and corruption. A new thing, now, is a big star, with a thousand little stars around it. The black isn’t a failing or veil behind which lie secrets- it’s places for new potential. Just another spot to fill with light, another star. It’s amazing. I still feel the heavy weight on my shoulders, the crack across my core, but all it takes is to look up and out to see the world in a shining new light.
---------- Post added at 06:09 PM ---------- Previous post was at 05:50 PM ----------
I'm reading a conspiracy book. It's driving me insane.
What if everything you have ever been told was a lie? What if the Earth was flat, we never landed on the moon, the holocaust never happened, aliens have taken over the government, global warming isn't really happening, our cows are being fed things that make our dairy poison, and we would all live forever is we just stopped breathing or eating? YOU can't prove anything. The only thing that you have to go by is what you've already been told, by people who have been told the same thing, so on and so forth until you reach the source, who was in on the conspiracy the whole time. You don't have the brain of Einstein or Darwin or Benjamin Franklin, so who are you to say what's right or wrong unless you can bring proof that can back up everything? Proof you collected yourself, not just copied off of someone's earlier works. You, you right there, can only say things that you've been told. You didn't conduct the experiments or watch them happen, you were just told that they did, this is why, and that it proves this. Everything you have ever known could be a huge lie, and you wouldn't know it. Doesn't that suck?
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 12-11-2012 at 12:10 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I've had dreams in this setting twice before, one of them is posted here (I think). In the dream sharing a setting with this one, but not written in this forum, it's almost as if all the freakshows and ghosts and extreme weirdos (including me) were captured and put in this one spot, like some crappy reality TV show. Eventually, instead of working together to find food and live, we all start to fight and kill one another. This dream isn't nearly as gruesome... maybe.
Also , it's disturbing how much my dreams reveal what some part of me really thinks, even if those thoughts arent rationall or drawn from reason.
If you've ever played minecraft, this setting should be easier to describe: Rolling plains covered in some flowers and mild grasses. In the middle of this wide expanse lies a sort of village, completely dedicated to education. The village houses are composed of paneled wood mixed with some stone, but what's different from most minecraft villages are the tops of the houses. All the buildings are two or three stories high, and all are connected on the second story by bridges or wide pieces of wood. Most of the activity in the village took place here, my subconscious told me, but no one was out and about now.
A large, darkly colored wooden building was in front of me. It was only connected to the matrix of a city by a singly, thin bridge that swung when the wind blew.
A sigh from my lips. I was about to do something, give up my nomadic life for something, someone. What my life was before now, I can't tell you, nor can I say what I was about to do, but it was happening.
Scene change. A man greets me, a look of anticipation on his face. He puts a hand to my back and guides me towards the building. He was grinning encouragingly, and seemed way too happy to be a principal, as my subconscious provided. The man was thin and had a bald head and slightly crooked teeth. Pale skin and light blue eyes put together made an overall image of total creep. Banishing this thought from my mind, I tensely let him guide me to the doors of the building in front of me.
Scene change. I'm inside the building now. The dark wood covers the building on the inside as well. Students are here, sitting at individual desks, concentrating on pieces of paper below hem with stick-like pencils in their hands. I walked up unstable step protruding from the wooden walls to the second floor, where equally focused students worked, but in a lesser number. I was seated in a desk near the back. The test in front of me was composed of many pale pages.
What seemed like hours later, but really was only moments in dream time, I finished the test. I closed the packet, set my pencil down, and promptly walked out of the room. It was easy, to the point of being refreshing.
I was told to go to a new room now. Designed like a cafeteria, a few pale tables and two vending machines furnished the room. The walls and furnishings were white and sparse, different from the common woods of this town. Briefly, I socialize with a girl with dark, intelligent eyes that scanned the room behind a glass of water that concealed her smile. She leaned against the side of a vending machine, and the aura of euphoric secretiveness around her drew me to her. Some time later, some amusing information about her. She's VX's latest girlfriend. I wasn't angry or jealous, rather I approved of his new choice.
Outside, the air was crisp. Earlier, I distinctly remembered warm sunshine beating down on my skin. Where had the heat gone? Suspicious, I looked around, taking in small details. The gravel was tossed around in places, thrown into the corner of one building especially. I didn't get another moment to take another look, because at that moment, a thunderous roar came from around the corner of a nearby building. A huge, dark shape rose up into hind legs, baring its teeth at me. Clearly uninterested in my scrawny self, he moved on the scream at the building behind me. Pieces of the second floor walls blew away. And here's where it gets strange- Launching into the air, I flew to what was left of the second floor and hovered in front of the monster's dragon-like face. Feeling totally furious, I witnessed a stream of energy comingfrom the edges of my skull. It was black, and bits of the mass flew off and dissolved some wood bits left hanging behind me. Oddly enough, it resembled hair.
On the other side of the building's torn roof, practically a mirror image of myself and my position lay, though I recognized the other girl to be the same one I had spoken to earlier, not my reflection. Between us, on the top floor, VX sat, icy blue eyes wide, but no emotion in his face.
The dream ends with me staring down the red eyed monster in front of me, my own eyes ablaze with rage.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 01-01-2013 at 07:43 AM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
The first setting is at a school. The schedule is strange. I recognize all of my teachers, and most of the students, but none of them know me, or even have time to glance twice in my general direction, just as if I were an unimportant new kid. The only one who knows who I am, and remembers me, is a rainbowdash brony friend of mine, RDA.
Setting number two is another school dream. The cafeteria is large, extending at least twenty tables with plenty of room in between in length and at least as many wide. A large wall separates the two rooms, but only extends halfway across the cafeteria. Beyond that, a thin hallway with a bathroom on the left hand side.
Previously used setting number there is a gypsy camp (Why I think of it as a gypsy camp, I have no idea, but that's what it was labeled when I was dreaming, so that's what I'm calling it.) in the future. In the previous dream, roads are hundreds of feet in the air and crisscross like spider webs. The buildings are true skyscrapers, hundreds of floors into the air, and at least fifty feet wide, but in a large variety of shapes and proportions. There is so much going on. In this particular place, there are three identical buildings, looking to be about fifteen stories high. Made of brick, they seem like they could be some of the oldest buildings here. One small building, maybe only one or two stories high and made of pale concrete, no windows, and a few peeling posters on the outside stood. Overweight people with layers of rags as clothing are covered in filthy grime and mold. The stench of sweat and urine lies heavily in the air, masked only by a think scent of greasy, cheap pizza.
And the last setting is of 'home'. The streets are narrow, and beyond the gate is a matrix of small apartment buildings. The school bus I was riding home crashed right in the entrance, due to the small roads and the vehicle's wide turns. I managed to sneak of the bus, but got lost. The dream is of running, bouncing up and around stairwells and streets like a rabbit on double shot espresso and meth. The sky is black, dark, and I sometimes hit unlit sections of the seemingly endless complex. I encounter vast backyards with pale stonework, a white gazebo on a mirror-like lake as still and unmoving as a long dead human being, flashing lights of automatic security… I never find my way home in the end. I only get lost even further, until I've given up completely by the time I've woken up. It was one of the worst nightmares I ever had. It led to my total brain dead exhaustion the following day, and an irrationally uneasy feeling around rabbits.
_________________________________
I start at my own school. In the last dream of this setting, no one knew me. Here, R and S know me. The halls are grey; the air is practically gray; everything is black and white. My focus is on R, though I notice S right behind her left shoulder. R is beckoning me with an uncharacteristic glassy eyed smile on her face. Something is clearly off, but it’s R after all, so I follow.
A large, gray bus pulls up; its doors already open as it slows down to the curb. I take only half a second to look around. Everything is different shades of grey, and a little blurry. The gray grass in front of me ends at a gray curb, at which the gray bus with characteristic black trim and a protruding stop sign. All were different shades of gray.
Scene change. Thank god for the color. The room was large, extending at least twenty tables with plenty of room in between in length and at least as many wide. A large wall separates the two rooms, but only extends halfway across the cafeteria. Beyond that, there was a thin hallway with a bathroom on the left hand side.
Every table was crowded with people of mixed races and cliques. It was like I brought all of my high school with me, in addition to what seemed like another school full of kids, and they recognized me (this time.) VX was here, as well as our very own Sure2HerWord, R, S, RDA, DB, AM, TRS, and many others. People were playing board games, dice flying, or just walking around and being social. Some were chilling out against a convenient wall. It was loud, but not overwhelming so. Laughter floated past my ears, and little snippets of conversation tried to grab my attention all at once. It was a great feeling, one that I miss dearly.
I flew from here to there across the room, catching up, inducing laughter with a quick tease, similar to what I do at home, or in a place where I actually trust everyone (which is rare). I saw VX several times in passing, waving apologetically at his increasingly negative expression. Being a social butterfly took a backseat to talking to VX, in my mind, and I increasingly took shots at jokes that made people laugh and sputter at my bluntness, followed by slipping out under their noses. Eventually, I got a moment to see him. He was seated by himself, on his phone. I don’t remember the exact words, but we talked. My feelings were mixed between slightly nervous, peaceful, and attentive. He scolded me for being away so much. A moment after I apologized, R and S were tugging at my shirt. They beckoned me, saying nothing. In a moment, they ere across the room, near the restrooms. I don’t know what the obsession is with teenage girls and hanging out in the bathroom, but I followed, sending a guilty look over my shoulder to VX. Unsteady, my too-large Converse slapped against the cheap school linoleum.
What I had originally thought to be a bathroom was a door to outside. A large yellow school bus was parked at the curb. To my left was a large baseball stadium. And the reddish dust flew in the air past my eyes. Somehow, I knew everyone was heading home, and the bus wouldn’t take me home. R and S were getting on the bus, but had left me with no solutions as to how I was supposed to get home. I called out to them, angry. They pointed simultaneously to my old, worn down Honda Civic. It was a two door car with a sunroof, but was really cheap, and had broken down often. Satisfied, I walked towards that car, VX gone from my mind.
Scene change. I was in the passenger’s seat of the car, looking out the window in a sleepy daze, lazily taking in my surroundings. The highway was made of typical pale concrete, and there were only a few cars on the road to our right, which I took little notice of. Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings in the car. My ears twitched backwards, like they sometimes do when I’m nervous for absolutely no reason. I straightened in my seat, and looked over. No one was driving the car. My heart leapt, but instead of wondering how I had possibly gotten from the school onto the highway with no driver, I reached over and seized control of the wheel. The car wiggled unsteadily. After a few more seconds of that, the car slowing down, I managed to launch my tall self from the passenger seat into the driver’s seat. My foot went to the gas pedal. My eyes glanced at the speedometer- 65 mph. Using the turn-signal like a good unlicensed driver, I went to the far right lane, but instead of exiting the highway, I managed to turn onto a bridge, probably leading to another highway. It was only one lane wide. Barely breathing, my fists gripped the wheel and turned my knuckles white. I’ll come out with it now- I’m fourteen years old. The most driving I had ever done was either in dreams or on a neighborhood road under parent supervision. I was so scared I could hardly breathe, which might seem pretty stupid to some, but that doesn’t make it invalid.
The bridge seemed endlessly high. There was suddenly fog on either side of the bridge- The white line was barely more than inches from the concrete railing on either side of me. Even though the Honda Civic is a small car, they seemed to be closing in on me. My eyes weren’t on the road anymore; they were on the railing outside of the curve, to my left. My grip started to slip and my eyes went glassy. Heart pounding, I watched the wall suddenly grow nearer.
The small blue-green car slammed into the wall. Bouncing like a sick pinball, The crunched under the impacted. It flipped nearly 180 degrees, before the weight became too much, and a piece of concrete wall slipped under the car’s weight. The car soared off the bridge to the round below it.
Scene change. I must have passed out. The once high sun had moved quite a bit in the sky. I emerged from the flaming hunk of metal, alive, but limping. I couldn’t feel my left leg, and it was covered in blood. Blood dripped down the side of my face, and it was smeared and splattered over various parts of my broken and shaking body. Tears running from my face, I limped into what I think of as a modern gypsy camp. Three identical, tall, brick buildings, maybe five or six stories into the air were covered in peeling posters. Clothing lines covered in reeking pieces of cloth were strewn from the windows, the doors were similar to what you would see in a grocery store, though I doubted that the sensors worked. The ground was concrete, like that of a parking lot, but covered in grease and mold everywhere the eye could see. Nothing was free from the stink. I could almost feel my soul rotting away with everything else here. Dazed, I spoke with the people. They were wearing bright clothes and ribbons in their hair, and either slippers or no shoes at all. One of them had pizza cheese and grease on their leg, but seemed to take no notice of it. They were so big around (ahem- fat) that even their eyes seemed to squeeze shut from the folds of blubber around their face. They were too busy making incomprehensible jokes to notice me, so I called their attention myself. I got them talking, maybe got a bit distracted myself. I managed to persuade the woman to rinse the pizza bits off of her leg, and use her cell phone.
I walked to the side of one of the nearby buildings for privacy, calling my mom’s cell number. After a few rings, she picked up. I leaned my forehead against the concrete, and listened for a moment. She was raving about me, something I had done recently. I bit back tears of shame and tried to interrupt her several times. My dad was there too, they were joking about what could be so wrong. Exasperated, I finally spoke out in anger, “Mom, I crashed the car from really high up, the civic is totaled, I’m bleeding and I think my leg might be broken. I don’t know where I am. I really need you to be a mom right now.” Tears broke through my tattered cover of calm.
I wake up with my cheeks wet, thankful that it never really happened.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 01-21-2013 at 05:33 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
Sorry about that. I did manage to forget most of the dream, regardless of the vague details I gave you.
Oops.But I do have a new one for you. Quite strange. My grandmother rides a four wheeled mongoose out of Halo. The pieces of this dream don't seem to fit. The story-line is jagged, and new events are unrelated to previous ones.
I'm walking out of a classroom. It's dark outside, as if it's nighttime, though I have no clue why I would be at school during the night. I walk down a hallway with a few doors towards a glass door on a glass wall reinforced by pale, shining steel bars. The classic push panel of the school door is cold to the touch against my forearm. Pushing the door makes me aware of a stack of folders and books in my arms.
Outside, the night air a crisp and cool. A few stars and a waxing moon are covered by a few clouds drifting across the night sky. The grass is frosty and cool, and you can barely distinguish it from the sidewalk. Three sidewalks converged to one, and led to a portable further down on the hill.
Scene change. I assume I’m inside the building I had just looked at. There are many trapezoid shaped tables, all with students sitting before a test. The room is rectangular with the desks going around in a sort of hook shape.
Here’s where it gets really fuzzy. Somehow I get the impression that I’m staring at a science test. It takes me forever to finish it, and I change rooms. In the next room, where the math test is to take place, everything in the room is mirrored from the last room. Somehow, my old math teacher seats me, but doesn’t give me a test. I pester her and continue to ask her for my test, but she’s disappeared. It continually gets faster paced, as if my brain is racing through these parts. I think I might have gone to an assembly. I have an image of a large auditorium, the floor slanting downwards and he hardwood floors of the stage are cream in color. I feel rather than see someone familiar here, perhaps VX.
The flurry of scenes stops, finally. My step grandmother, MM, is guiding me somewhere. My peripherals are grey blurs, but the scene in front of me is vivid with color. The grass grows in deep green, messy clumps between dark brown, damp dirt. The dark color triggered something in my subconscious, and I identified the climate in the area to be either humid or it simply rained often, and the dirt was rich and full of minerals that a farmer could fall in love with.
We advanced upon a sort of trench in the ground. As if an invisible line in front of me traced a signal to the ground, the terrain took a shard sloop downwards for ten or twelve feet, before sharply turning upward again, and then flattening out again. A line of thick, dark trees hid what lay beyond that.
Scene change. Actually, the scene is the same, except we've gotten atop a few mongooses (Like in Halo. *facepalm*) and are racing in and out of the ditch with remarkable speed. Like a skating rink, we rise out of one side of the ditch before turning downwards and heading down again. I watch my dark hair fly behind me and MM's perm stay alarmingly in one exact position on her head from a bird's eye view of the scene below. (This would never happen- MM has severe scoliosis in real life. It's difficult for her to get around, but she refuses to use her walker.) Dirt flies from behind the wheels of our mongooses, and I feel an uneasy confusion mixed with the passiveness of a higher being watching things unfold below.
Out of thin air, a vehicle similar to our own is on the dirt 'rink'. Except he's four times our size, with monster wheels the size of a SmartCar. I don't see myself anymore. I feel like i've drawn completely in the clouds, the passive, apathetic feeling taking over control. MM is still below. Her mongoose runs under the wheels of the monster-vehicle (Not a monster truck) and, very briefly, I feel a sense of alarm. When she pops up on the other side, unscratched and completely unaware of the other vehicle, the feeling goes away. for helf a second, I wonder if I should go down there and remove her from the ditch, but not enough energy or willpower backs that thought to get me moving. Uncaring, melancholy, yet feeling oddly powerful, my gaze begins to fog and drift elsewhere.
The dream ends, leaving me as confused as ever.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 02-24-2013 at 11:50 PM.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I have questions.
How does a rocket work?
What are bubble robots made out of, and why does the laser make them move?
Why are democrats and republicans so hell bent on taking each other down?
Why do people remain ignorant by choice?
Why don't people face their own flaws?
How do artists paint pictures that manage to get shown in news articles about space?
What's the big difference between right and wrong?
Why are some things right in some cultures and wrong in others?
Why are the cool inventions being made without me?!
What's the difference between writing expository essays and writing persuasive essays? Is the basic format the same?
Who makes those crappy fake ads 'CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE WON!' And why haven't the gotten a life? Are they paid to troll people and fry computers with viruses? No? Why would you waste your time on that?
What religion came first?
What are all the missing books of the bible about, and why does the Vatican keep them secret?
How do electrons exist in the clouds during a storm? Was it in reference to the electrons already existing on an atom? (Lightning)
Why is math so hard?!
What are the practical problems of synergy? Is it achieved through cybernetics or psychology?
Where did our culture come from? How might other life-inhabiting planets evolved differently than us?
Do other dimensions exist?
How does time work? It's not a tangible thing, yet it exists all the time nonetheless.
How old do you have to be to join Menza?
Maybe I can answer these over time.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
Do not judge me. I am not responsible for the flaws I posses revealed through dreams, as long as I don't act on them.
I feel like I've walked into the Industrial era. A hallway with deep green carpet, patterned with pale blue pearls, is well worn in the hallway of this ship. On the side, windows line the wall at intermittent points. I'm seeing through my own eyes for once, so I feel strange and disembodied as I move down the hall and open all the windows. Noxious yellow fumes float in the hall, concentrated right at face-level. People are cramming up against the windows, peering out among the blue waves below, and behind the waves to the people waving goodbye on the wooden dock. The people are mostly dressed in long, faded garments of multiple layers. Soot line the edges of the docks below, and most of the people wear a covering over their mouth and nose, probably to filter out the dense, polluted air. Oddly, the yellow fumes on the ship are different than the grey smog outside. I walk away, feeling no need to wave goodbye to no one.
I'm attending classes on this ship. The classes have vaulted ceilings and tall, intelligent teachers, making the rest of us feel small, stupid, and mousy. In the front, a tall, skinny teacher is enthusiastically pointing to different things on the board and writing new ones. Briefly, I focus on the writing. A violent mixture of letters, numbers, and symbols combine to create the ever-dreaded MATH, and I turn away from the board hastily. Other people in the room are either doodling on the edges of their papers, or enthusiastically taking notes, faces turning from the board to their notepad rapidly. Rolling my eyes, I lay my head down into my arms on the desk.
The ship is permanently docked somewhere less like the industrial age and more like Seattle. Our class was outside, regardless of the wet weather. A teacher is telling us a story, but instead of hearing her voice, I see the images flash before me.
A woman, living in a luxurious first-class room, has a queen bed inside of a glass tub, filled with water. She sleeps in the water, under some odd superstition about the healthiness of her skin. A man enters the room, from a well lit bathroom in the corner. He greets her loudly and enthusiastically, like the teacher, and wakes her. They... have some kinky intercourse (very kinky, bathtub toys and all) And at climax, she brings out a diamond shaped, slightly lopsided, opal. It was black, with shining spots of firey orange and red, and some flecks of green. She broke it in half, demonstrating remarkable strength from her plump, hourglass figure.
The next thing I saw was the strange, yellow fumes bursting from all the ship's windows and doors, like millions of small mushroom clouds.
Scene change. I flick back and forth between first person and second person view. I'm not myself anymore, but a buff, blonde girl with thin hair pulled back into a short braid. My beefy arms end in small, surprisingly dainty hands. My waist is small, but my upper body and torso are overstuffed with cartoon-ish body builder muscle, ending in small, yet still muscular legs.
Wow, I just realized that I never finished this. Terrible of me. Well, I'm here now, rereading some of my work, and I remember what happens next, so I suppose I'll finish it now, if anyone even cares at this point. Sorry!
I'm still looking through my own eyes, glancing at myself in a mirror probably longer than is usually socially accepted. I do that a lot. I don't know if I'm looking for something, or simply surprised to see myself, but if I catch myself in a mirror, I usually can't bring myself to turn away. Sounds vain and photogenic, I know, but I'm not judging myself nor am I looking for improvements to make. I'm simply intriuged and find the need to stare and figure our why my reflection distracts me so. I'm no different, here in the dream. Even as I speak to a lanky girl with long, dark hair, I'm distracted by the mirror, and keep glancing over to it. Finally, I mentally shake myself, and purposefully walk away to busy myself with research. After the story I was told in Seattle and being told that the gem is still hidden somewhere, all of us were dead set on finding it, even if it meant missing classes to search. We started in the library.
I can't focus on the tomes in front of me. The words are bland, completely without dimension or justifiable interest. Even the book is gray, with gray dust spreading as I turn each page monotonously. I'm not even reading it anymore, just drifting off into dreamland with a robotic scan of my eyes over the page. Suddenly, I realize that this isn't going to get me anywhere, nor was this book in any way entertaining, so I would try another approach. I got up, closed the book with a bang while dust shot out of the pages, and turned to walk away. As I approached the entrance, I ran into someone I found distasteful. Another was staring into the mirror, but she was admiring herself, turning this way and that, fluffing her corkscrew blonde hair. She realized I was behind her, and turned to sneer at me and turn up her nose. I paid her no mind, my ears suddenly roaring with the realization of something important. I stared behind her, keeping up the banter while distractedly glancing at the mirror, but no longer in the mirror itself, but in the adornment at the bottom. A tear drop shaped gem, black and glowing with flickers of firelight and flecks of forest green decorated the bottom of the mirror, joined at either side by golden wire. I managed to say something to get the girl to leave, with her two hulking cronies with her. After the door shut with a soft thump, I was across the room and retrieving the gem in a second. I held the priceless artifact above my head, testing it against the light while reveling in my discovery. I had found it! The missing jewel!
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 08-20-2013 at 02:04 AM. Reason: I never finished it o.o
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I just want to thank anyone and everyone who has bothered to take time out of their busy schedules to take a look at this forum. I'm so completely shocked I managed to attract attention with my musings and morbid dreams, but I know I probably wouldn't have done it without encouragement from the view count and from my close friends, who know who they are. I know I haven't exactly been consistent with the timing of my posts, and for that I apologize, and appreciate any who has bothered to bear with me. Writing practically keeps me alive at this point, controls my temper and helps me realize things I wouldn't have before. When I write, it's usually for a purpose; maybe something grabbed my attention because it wasn't what I was used to, or something made me angry. (You're all about to get an angry post or two when I'm done reading every good story on this fanfiction site I've fallen in love with...) Finding the right words to fit the description of something I want to wrap my head around has become a calming ritual, and it helps me to see thing in a different perspective. By stepping back and overlooking the whole picture, I'm noticing a pattern in my dreams and attitudes that's help me reach (as sappy and cliche as it sounds) a better understanding of myself. I would not have made it this far into life without you people behind your computer monitors. :P
⇜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⇝I'm scared. I'm scared of managing to get somewhere in life, then making a crucial error, and falling down to depths- that of which I have never experienced before. Looking around, seeing a lot of dreams with this 'falling' pattern, I feel totally daft for not clicking earlier. I'm scared that the only way I'll get anywhere is the darker way, the path that requires more ass-kissing and blackmail and persuasion than actual skill or perseverance.
⇜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⇝T+ for some suggestive content. You know what has been seriously making me mad recently? TRUCKS. I admit, I live in the city, so trucks are pretty useless here, which might influence my opinion. Prepare for a biased rant.
3A reason I hate trucks is the people I manage to find driving them. The idiots on the highway that cut you off, or try to make maneuvers that just won't work for the bulky mass of tin put everyone else in danger. You- idiot in a freaking ford with the suspension cranked up four feet too high- will emerge unscathed from a multi-car accident that you caused because you drive a bloody truck that crushes all little Hondas and SmartCars and Lexus' in their path and emerge unscathed! How do you manage to get into a freaking collision with another care and emerge- quite literally- without a single scratch! There are bits if my car stuck to your car and bits of my car littering the road, and my freaking headlight and grill is busted beyond repair, yet you don't even have a SCRATCH on your precious, useless freaking car! YES- true experience.
2
1
...
Another reason is the advertising. This may just be because I live in a southern area, but all truck commercials seem to be aimed at men in cowboy hats and boots who want to go out and work in the mud and the fields all day. Heads up- like three dozen people in this entire god-forsaken state do that, and you're hoping they'll catch your stupid freaking commercial at four in the afternoon?! Everyone else has a normal, boring job, and if it isn't normal and boring, it's certainly more entertaining and time consuming than transporting hay across a freaking field. What is a city boy going to do with a truck that chugs gas like air and whose extra bulk is totally useless when trying to find a suitable parking spot or transfer lanes- absolutely nothing! They seem to have the exact advertising technique as Viagra- for good reason, bringing me to my next point...
If the first two reasons weren't enough, then here. I have never seen a pair of fake 'balls of steel' hanging from the back of any other car than a truck. (I happen to be a bit of a feminist. How else can you declare your douche-baggery than hanging a freaking scrotum from the back of your truck for me to stare at while in this infamous traffic! I swear, if a truck is parked somewhere near me with that piece of crap hanging from its bumper, I'm going to spray paint it some flesh color, the paint fake gashes all over it! Take that sonofa- How would you like it If I hung a freaking vagina- clitoris and all- from the back of my car for you to stare at?! B***!) Also, I have seen maybe one other car to ten trucks with the suspension cranked all to hell. My poor small car barely reaches the bottom of the door already; do you have to give me a freaking heart attack every time you pass me up and my life flashes before my eyes? I already can't stand eighteen- wheelers!
These freaking idiots... Scenario: Stupid person who happens to have a truck with suspension cranked up and fake balls on the back makes a bad move for the overwhelming large piece of metal he was driving and effing kills us all- our body parts and our cars body parts strewn across the danged road while your f**g truck merrily drives, fake f**g silver scrotum hanging from the back, gangling in all our DEAD faces, with nothing but a damaged fucking suspension. F** YOU.
The only thing I'll admit in favor to the other hand of this argument relates to the uses of a truck in the city. If you move, you get to keep your queen size mattress.
I'm not bagging on all truck owners. I admit, there are jobs that require trucks in the city, and some people just like trucks. I'm not disgracing you in any way, just the stupid people that have trucks for a false social status symbol and/or continue to drive it wrong, like an eagle piloting a blimp. Ever so graceful.
I just totally spent thirty minutes ranting about trucks when I have a project due in three days that I haven't bothered starting and final exams in two weeks. If I begin to hang around here sometime within the next two weeks, PM me and tell me to study, will ya?
⇜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⇝A little response to a post my friend made. The last I heard, she was on a shaky start with a relationship with an older guy, and she spent her week posting depressing break-up stuff, and finished off with a suicidal nursery rhyme. I responded like this:
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat.
How I wonder where you're at.
Melancholy, I can glean
From the distant echo of your screams
Twinkle Twinkle little moon
I want to know what's done to you
No small secret something's changed
From dropped suggestions and flickers of pain
Twinkle, twinkle, little sun
Time to tell me what he's done
You know you can't run; I know where you sleep
A pair of friends stalk you; hip to hip, cheek to cheek.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 03-16-2013 at 07:20 AM. Reason: I'm a slytherin. I don't edit things! *indignation*
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
I admit- I'm a nerd. I've been told repeatedly, and I've accepted it as part of myself (Better being a nerd than someone pitifully normal (; ), yet I never succumbed to the stereotype that all nerds will do you homework if you ask politely. No, I've looked on disdainfully at those who ask for answers to homework or classwork they didn't do at the last minute. I've only supplied answers that I knew were probably wrong, and even so, only occasionally.
I've broken the cycle, however.
A boy, older than I, asked a friend of mine to do his project while I happened to be nearby. My friend was adamant about not doing it without payment in advance. He started looking stressed, jaw clenching slightly and eyes hardening. He looked anywhere but at us- the wall, the ceiling, his shoes, the vending machine. He begged and pleaded, and eventually it came out that his grandmother was in the hospital. Me, being stupidly soft and naive, slipped next to my friend and said that we would do it, bringing up my laptop as proof. We worked on it together, the three of us and another friend, not finishing in school. Clearly very stressed and not knowing what to do, the boy stormed off, looking about ready to burst into tears or slam his fist in the wall. That night, I stayed up til the wee hours of the morning finishing his project to his specifications, in addition to my own homework. Before emailing it to him, I took a necessary precaution to avoid any others that might feel the need to ignore their school work and asked my dear friend to say that she did most of the work, while I only reviewed and edited when she was finished.
He successfully turned his project in only a day late. Not that it mattered much to me- he had the wrong specifications (I didn't know until the next day) and I'm not even sure that our teacher accepted it.
I've thought about my motives and my sudden impulsiveness regarding the stupid project. I remember jumping when he said his grandmother was sick. That alone brought up harsh memories of my best friend's grandmother's death, and the pain radiating from each family member that night. In addition to that, my own mother recently had surgery and is staying in the hospital tonight. I've worried myself sick thinking about it, though its only a simply hysterectomy and nothing to worry about. Concluding- I get sentimental when family members get sick. Not an out-of-the-ordinary weakness.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 03-21-2013 at 04:30 AM. Reason: Unicorns are all dead because their pregnancies were difficult.
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....
Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express with the dignity that only a pureblood could manage without looking ridiculous. While the rest of Kings Cross station as covered in at least a thin layer of soot, the young wizard had the telltale Malfoy pale skin, grey eyes, and shining blonde hair that glowed and managed to repel all dirt and grime that could possibly mar the evangelical image.
Passing the compartments at the front of the train where most of the teachers and students from Ravenclaw sat, Draco noticed an older man whom he didn’t recognize. A swift glance revealed dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that were passing over the students with barely concealed mirth and excitement. ‘I assume he is our latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.’ Sneering in disgust at the man’s lack of self preservation, the young wizard passed by him without a second glance, robes sweeping behind him indignantly.
Arriving at his usual car in the back where the Slytherins were usually found, Draco received a few curt nods in greeting, all of which he responded to in equal courtesy. With a flick of his hand, the compartment door slid open in front of him, but instead of settling into a seat, a brute, warm force crushed the air out of the boy’s lungs.
“Pansy- Get off me!” He snarled. Pansy released her death grip before he had finished his sentence, jumping back as if burned. A grimace of pain soured her features. Gently rubbing a spot on her stomach Pansy looked pointedly at his upraised wand.
“You practically stabbed me with your wand, Draco!” She accused, raising her voice.
“Perhaps if you didn’t launch yourself in all of your love and glory at people when they least expect it, you wouldn't end up with a wand halfway through your stomach!” He gracefully danced around her tense form and into the compartment she was failed to block, slipping his wand back into its sheath. The blonde hadn't remembered drawing it at all, but it was good to know that he could defend himself from surprise attacks without thinking about it. ‘Not that any attackers would choose a flying hug as their weapon of choice,’ He thought in disgust.
Settling in his seat, Draco turned to the others occupying their compartment.
“Hello Blaise, Theo.” Nodding to each, respectively.
“Good afternoon, Draco.” Blaise responded, overly-formally in an attempt to lessen the tension in the room. Theo spared them both a slight inclination of his head, before returning his gaze to a book titled Advanced Potion-Making on the spine in green lettering. It was at this moment that Pansy chose to slip across the gap between their knees and sit in the seat near the cold window. Plopping down into the cushion in a way that could only be described as childish, she stared out the window, face seemingly stuck resembling a thundercloud. The boys ignore her and continued their polite conversation.
“Have you seen the new teacher? I assume he’ll be teaching DADA; only opening here at Hogwarts.” Draco asked, not sparing Pansy a glance. She wasn't patient nor calm; It was expected that she would lose her temper in a moment or two.
“Only in passing. He was rather...” Blaise wrinkled his nose, “Ridiculously happy.” Draco nodded in agreement, and paused.
“Actually... I happened to overhear Severus talking with my father," He smirked. He didn't overheat it at all, they had made him aware of it, but they didn't need to know the trust he shared with his godfather, Severus. "Apparently, the Headmaster plans to combine Slytherin and Gryffindor into more classes together, in an attempt to quell our legendary rivalry. Can you imagine Defense Against the Dark Arts with bloody Gryffindors under that pansy of a teacher?” He used Pansy's name on purpose, inciting a low growl from the girl.
Blaise laughed, “We’re going to eat them alive!” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “I bet you he doesn't last one-”
Pansy interrupted him by standing up and towering over Draco’s sitting form. “ Dammit, man, didn’t you miss me at all! I thought we were friends! I even hugged you!” She sniffed. “Bloody hell, you’re an arsehole!”
Draco sent her an intense glare. Somehow, he managed to seem like he was looking down his nose at her, though his gaze was turned upwards at her standing form. The temperature in the room seemed to drop considerably whenever he activated the legendary Malfoy glare, Pansy noticed, though she deterred herself from rubbing her arms by focusing on his gaze fearlessly, though he still looked like he wanted to cast an Unforgivable on her right about now.
“Sit down, Pansy, and behave like a Slytherin.” Effectively silenced, Pansy sat, shocked into obedience by his calm tone of voice that didn’t match the expression in the least.
“Whether I missed you or not is not of importance. That’s no excuse for attacking me from out of the blue. I nearly hexed you- I did not have my wand out merely to provide discomfort to your abdomen. I’ve also told you before not to touch me.” Seeing Pansy open her mouth in rage, Draco whipped his wand through the air and uttered a silencing spell - Now, she looked outraged.
“That’s not to say I didn’t miss you.” It wasn’t really true, but he said it for her benefit, and softened his hard gaze. He had been too busy practicing offensive and defensive magic most of the summer to really miss anyone’s presence. Well, except for one person anyhow, and that was simply for missing out on the entertainment that trying one of his new spells out would have provided; Potter.
⇜⇜⇜⇜ ⇝⇝⇝⇝
Above, the Great Hall ceiling, enchanted to mirror the sky outside, gleamed vibrantly with the evening sunset. Candles floated many feet above the students of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, tracing softly glowing paths through the air. Hogwarts was the only place Harry truly felt he was at home, and he was particularly fond of the Great Hall. He remembered it as one of the first magical phenomena he had encountered in the wizarding world, since he had grown up knowing nothing of his heritage. The memory, because of the pure creativity in its enchantment and beauty of the resulting image, made it something he held deep respect and love for – until Malfoy, that prat, sent an enchanted piece of parchment flying through the sky like a toy Haley’s comet and struck Harry in the forehead. Where they had gotten an enchantment to send a paper ball all the way across the Great Hall, Harry could only begin to guess.
Harry glared between the heads of the students seated at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables at Draco Malfoy, one of his many enemies. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was a known death eater, and his family was one of the many long lines of prejudiced purebloods. Dobby, a house elf who Harry freed from this particular family in second year, sneered and shot jibes at the Malfoy's when they passed, always defending Harry’s honor- not that he needed it.
“Come on, let’s go. The last thing you need is a fight with Malfoy on the first day back!” Hermione Granger touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention away from the bloody git. She was a muggleborn, a witch who had both muggle, or nonmagical, parents. Despite the blood that runs through her veins, she was one of the most competent witches Harry had the pleasure of knowing. If it was in a book, Hermione knew something about it.
Ron was looking at him as well. He was pureblood, though still looked down upon because of his family's lack of immense wealth. He came from the Weasley family, the common trait distinguishing them being their flaming red hair, brown eyes, and scattered freckles.
Harry's two best friends stood, and Harry reluctantly moved to follow them to the Gryffindor common room to cool his temper and possibly unpack his trunk.
The Gryffindor common room was patriotically decorated in flaming red and fiery orange. Dark furnishing glowed with the firelight reflecting off the red brick of the hearth. It was always warm in Gryffindor tower, but today, Harry found it stuffy and overpoweringly warm. Even the colors were too hot. The bright scarlet and gold colors painfully stabbed at his eyes, being a sharp contrast to the dull, lifeless shades at home in Private Drive. He was pacing the floor, wearing tracks into the warm rugs beneath his feet. Hermione and Ron looked on; Hermione worried, but slightly amuse, Ron wearing a look mirroring Harry’s rage.
“First day of school! He couldn't even wait a bloody day to start tormenting me again!” his expression shifted from rage to hurt to distrust and sorrow back to rage again, “How could I have been so stupid; so trusting!” He stopped short, and continued with his rant as a cover up, “Th-that b-bloody wanker!”
“Harry!” Hermione scolded him. She was studying his face. Harry hid a look of defeat, knowing she had caught him, “Language!”
Wearily, the Boy who Lived spoke, “I just don’t understand.” The room was silent for a moment. Ron looked at Hermione in confusion that she mirrored. Several minutes passed in awkward silence, the only noise being the crackle of the fireplaces.
“I’m going upstairs to unpack my trunk.” Harry said abruptly, making his friends jump. He was across the room and storming up the stairs in an instant. His anger had faded, but it had been replaced by soul-gnawing weariness and regret. Dragging his feet up the steps to the dorms higher in the tower. After the stricken young man had left, Hermione enthusiastically motioned towards the steps, shooting Ron and pointed glance. Weasley raised his hands up and shook his head, eyes wide, and raised his shoulders. He didn’t know what to do, nor did he know how he could possibly provide comfort. The exasperated girl glared at him one last time, before silently going up the steps. She didn’t like being in the boy’s dorm much, even when most people hadn’t come in yet, because it smelled of teenage sweat and other things she wouldn’t dare think about at this moment in time, thank you very much.
The boy who lived was sitting on his bed with is fisted hands in his eyes when she arrived. After silently warding the door so that no one could enter or peak inside, Hermione observed the unveiled pain on his face, the tension in his shoulders a silent echo of the misery he was truly experiencing. ‘There’s definately something more to this. Harry would never act this way over Malfoy’s sick jokes before. Why is it different now?’ She thought silently back to the times in previous years when Malfoy had let something slip, accidental or not, she didn’t know. Harry had never gotten upset at jibes aimed at him. ‘Pampered celebrity’, ‘Scarhead’, ‘Bloody prick’, ‘The Boy Wouldn’t Fucking Die’, nothing could faze him- as long as it was targeted at himself. When Malfoy lashed out at ‘Mudblood’ or ‘Weasel’, or at Harry’s parents or Sirius, the slimy slytherin would find himself with an exploding wart on his nose, or a painful laceration in place he didn’t care to discuss. The snake had never learned his lesson, or course, not when Harry hexed him into the lake, or when Harry had turned Malfoy into a-
Harry made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a faint sob of grief. His hands curled into tight fists over his eyes, turning his knuckles white. Hermione couldn’t move - frozen by shock. In all the years that she had been a friend to Harry, he had never cried in front of her. Ever. He was too prideful, and didn't allow himself to show any weakness. The scrawny boy let loose another cry, and after muttering spell of silence over the open doorway, the girl rushed to his side.
He jumped three feet when Hermione touched his arm in concern, whipping his wand out at her. Red rimmed eyes adorned by blotchy cheeks stared in shock at her kneeling form. She put her hands up in surrender. Slowly, hesitantly, Harry's 11’ holly wand with phoenix feather core was silently set on the bedside table. Its owner collapsed into Hermione’s waiting arms while she cooed and gently stroked the boy’s hair. She held onto a mask of motherly comfort and calm, but she was truly bewildered underneath. This simply wasn’t usual for Harry.
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction ever. For once, I wholly and completely welcome- no, encourage- constructive criticism, suggestions, and/or input regarding spelling errors, better syntax, character development, storyline, etc.
I do not own Harry Potter as in the book series, the movie series, the characters, or the backstory. I am not making any money off of this, and mean no disrespect to the proper owners and/or JK Rowling.
Last edited by Hiuknowme; 03-31-2013 at 02:42 AM. Reason: TO THE L, TO THE I, TO THE N, TO THE K
YOUU!
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP---
shhhhhhh......
..........................
......
...
can you hear them?
.....
the voices?
the voices of the characters you've killed?
...
ill tell you a secret...
THEY WHISPER TO ME
....................
..........
...
they sow me beautiful seedlings of stories whispering leaves across asphalt blank as snow fallen in---
SHHHHH!--
LISTEN!....