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| After The Memorial; A Poetic Story Of Mine | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 28 Dec 2009, 11:55 PM (538 Views) | |
| cheesebug | 28 Dec 2009, 11:55 PM Post #1 |
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Ultimate Threadkiller
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Here is a nice little story I wrote. It's written in poem form, so it only gives you hints about the plot. The sentences may not make any sense and be extremely random, but as you gpo along, they all band together to create the story. You still might not get it or where I'm coming from making it, so you can scroll to the bottom if you don't get it. After The Memorial Sometimes, what happens afterwards is more important. He had to die. Sloan's life story wasn't about him getting married or having the girl of his dreams as a wife and having three perfectly lovely kids. It was about what he did for them. Therefore, again, he had to die. But if Sloan's dead, then will the story be about? Actually, the story isn't about Sloan's life. It isn't about Sloan's death, either. It's about what came after. There were two green eyes. Three? Two. Looked like three. Wasn't. Colors. So many colors. Did I kill my family? Driving. I want to die. No, Sharon, don't. Grab the wheel, turn the wheel. My children! Children screaming. I want to die. I want to die. I won't let you. My children! So many colors. Blues and greens. And red. So much red. Did I kill my family? Are they dead? I need to find them. Am I dead? Where am I? Colors. So many colors. Looking through papers. Was it real? Was I dreaming? She's not real. Can't be. Two green eyes. Looking through a file. I know that she has two green eyes. That's all I know. Tina comes in. I told you to wait outside in the van. Mom's crying. Sharon? What's wrong? I don't know. She won't stop. Putting the paper down. Go outside, Tina. I should have gone. I should have hugged her. Now she's gone. Now they're gone. Now I'm gone. Because I didn't go outside. Because of two green eyes. I hate you, Sloan. My daughter. My daughter said my name. Since when did she stop saying daddy? Since when did she grow up? Tradgedy. Lurking in the shadows behind every blade of grass. My poor daughter. Was it my fault? What did I do? I'm sorry. Slamming the door. Sharon; Don't slam the doors, young lady! Standing. Just standing there. All white. Then a light, a dark figure. Who are you? I am me. Who am I? You are you, Sloan. Where am I? Dark figure gone, alone, nowhere. Traveling. I can feel my feet moving, but I am not. Where am I going? Where am I? Did I kill my family? I have to find them. But I don't know if I exist. Seeing. A streak of black on the white canvas. Or is it red? Spreading. A door! A look inside. A church. My family! They are there. But where am I? I want to call to them. They are crying. Stop crying, I am here, I'm right here, I didn't leave. I start, but something grabs me. Nothing is spoken. I am not alone. But that's how I feel. At the supermarket. Beeping. Do you think we need bananas? No, apples. Okay. Looking around. I see it. I see her. Green cardigan, blue jeans. Looking through cans. Her cardigan matches her eyes. I yell to her. She runs. I know who she is. I know those green eyes. From far away, I see them shining. You! Hey! She's running away. I love her. I don't want to hurt her. Security comes, pulls me away. No! I need her! But they pull me away and tell me to mind my own buisness. I want to tell them she is my buisness. In the dark still. I need to talk to you. Who are you? There is light. It makes a grand entrance. I can almost hear it filling my heart, pulling it out of the darkness. I am nobody. Was nobody. I see a face. Not a woman. Not a girl. In between. I see her eyes. But I see her hair. It is brown. It is not the green eyed woman I had lost. Don't you recognize me? I look hard at her face, but all I can see are her eyes. I am your grandaughter. But I have no grandaughter. My children are not grown. I am merely thirty. But I stare at her eyes, and I can think of one. Then, like her mother, she is gone. And then I'm really alone. I see her in my dreams. Even in my dreams she disappears. But I know she is there. I scream for her. I say, Scarlette! Come back. But she does not come back. She hides. I never did anything to her. Why does she hate me? Why didn't she tell me about her daughter? Why did she kill her daughter? Why do I still love her? Why can't I find her? Why is it so hard to make her love me back? She was gone. I wandered in the blinding light, and bumped into something hard as rock. It was a person. It was me. Millions of me were wandering around. I brought my hands to the person's face, gently feeling all my features. But he, but I, left. And abandoned me. Even I was sick of myself. He, I, was a stranger. I don't know who I am anymore. So I wandered around, and somehow fell out of eternal blindness. And I laughed at the sentencial oximoron. And suddenly, my world was pain. I lay in bed, Sharon next to me. She was talking, but I didn't listen. Did you know I have another daughter? I interrupted her. She was silent, and as I looked over, I saw her crying. She was nodding. I know. That's what she said. I know. But how did she know before me? I grovelled drowning in my pain. This couldn't be a dream. I couldn't feel in dreams. But it was all so odd. It had to be a dream. It was so cold. Did I kill my wife? Did I kill my grandaughter? Only one was dead. Or? How many days had passed? How many years? I should have clung to her. My grandaughter. I liked it when dreams were dreams. Another person I could not see. I felt him all around me. You are dead. I thought about my wife and daughters. And son. I never played with him. Couldn't I have taken a day off work? Am I a monster? You are dead. Repeating. I nodded. I know. Since when was something as simple and harmless as rain deadly? I liked to pretend, me, a full adult, that that was what killed everyone. When I found myself alone and it was raining. But what about when the rain cleared? What if I was still alone? There were three roads. Who are you? Three roads. I'm the angel of death. How is that possible? Three roads. All the same. It's possible. Going different places. Choose one. Why? You can't stay here forever. Where do they go? One, heaven. One, Hell. What about the other one? Silence. What about the other one? Whatever you want it to be. I looked at them. Then I'll go there. Where will it go? I'll make it go wherever I want, remember? Yes. But where? Somewhere. Better than Hell. Someone screamed. Better than Heaven? No. Then why are you going that way? I want it to take me home. On the road again. Did I make a wrong choice? A sense of doom surrounds me. I choke on my gluttony. I wasn't a glutton. I sense my greed, and my sloth. It is pulled from me and forms a mist around my head. I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? I don't care. I keep walking on. But I fall. I always fall. I feel like those eyes, the two green eyes, are watching. And laughing. I get up, and try and try and try to get back. But every step forward, the path behind me blocks another step back to the three trails. So I am forced to walk forward. But I don't know where I'm going anymore. Three poeople. The earth is sideways. They are picking up my family from the ground. I see and smell blood. Then I realize it's mine. They leave me on the ground though. I try to scream. For my wife. My son. My daughters. But nothing comes out. Then, my sight is blurred by a yellow blanket. And I can't see anything anymore. Except that terrible yellow blanket, that only means one thing. And at that moment, I do not care that I am dead. I just care that I am dead to my family. I turn around and push the invisible force keeping me from going back. Pushing. Breathing. Escaping. What are you doing? I'm going back. There is no going back, Sloan. Why? I admit it. I was wrong. Please? No. There is no going back. Only forward. Trudging forward, passing white. I see colors. Where are they? Why are they running from my sight? And suddenly, I break away. And I am free. Am I really gone? Can't I go back? Yes and no. I couldn't say goodbye. I know. Where am I now? You are here. Three roads. Blackness. I feel cold. I feel someone next to me. I feel someone's hand on my shoulder. I wish I could see the person. I wish he could find me. The hand grips my shoulder tightly. You can choose again. You know where I want to go. Fire suddenly surrounds me. I don't feel anything. I don't need to. I meant Heaven. Not this. What? Do you think this is Hell? This? Just fire? Fire that doesn't burn your flesh? Or scorch your soul? Have you forgotten how to breathe? Or are you drowning in your sins? No? Then you are far from Hell. This is just a way. To Heaven? Would I lie to you? In the darkness, him the only thing that can lead me out, I trust him. But suddenly, he is gone. Disappeared in the flames. And as I walked the fiery trail, losing hope, I wondered if he lied. Eating. ` Dad, can I get a shake? You can get whatever you want. Eating. Drinking. Lauging. So happy. Together. Two people. Grew up. Gone. Alone. Again. Found someone else. Had more kids. Drove. Gone. Alone. Again. The pain. The trail. It was covered. What kind of ashes? To get somewhere magnificent, I had to go through this? Rumblings. Buried alive. Dig myself out, keep walking. I feel like screaming. The fire gets hot. I want to die. But I am already dead. On a road. Must keep going. Walking. Running. Flying. Just get me out of here. I bend over, shrivel into myself. Im sorry. I tried to save my family. From the yellow blankets. ` From crashing. From being abandoned. But I abandoned them. Ruined them. How will they get food? Shelter? Water? I'm sorry. For putting my first daughter, my angel, up for adoption. For letting strangers take her away. For not following up with her. Letting her abort her baby. I would have loved her baby. It was hers. For letting her be alone. For years. I was in so much pain. I shrivelled up even more. Into dust. I cried salty tears. I'm sorry. Suddenly there was a piercing light. Another dark figure, floating to me. I closed my eyes to the light, but kept them cracked just enough to watch myself be picked up and carried off by a green eyed angel.
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http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms." | |
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| AdikAko | 29 Dec 2009, 05:50 PM Post #2 |
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Horned Rogue
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ouch... reminds me of Noli Me Tangere (spanish for touch me not) |
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| cheesebug | 30 Dec 2009, 08:07 PM Post #3 |
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Ultimate Threadkiller
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whats that about?
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http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms." | |
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| cheesebug | 16 Feb 2010, 07:22 PM Post #4 |
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Ultimate Threadkiller
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augh,, reading back on it, i hate this story. |
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http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms." | |
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| Deleted User | 17 Feb 2010, 03:28 AM Post #5 |
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Deleted User
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oh i like it but its a titch too long -the short sentences lost their effect for me because of the length but i always marvel at how you write such emotive material given your age a gift it is |
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| cheesebug | 8 Jun 2010, 09:31 AM Post #6 |
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Ultimate Threadkiller
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are there any sc enes i should remove? |
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http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms." | |
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| Midst Of Vampy | 8 Jun 2010, 06:28 PM Post #7 |
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Barabbas
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wow. Very beautiful in a depressing way
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| TIMEY-WHIMEY SKITTLES! | |
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| cheesebug | 8 Jun 2010, 06:31 PM Post #8 |
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Ultimate Threadkiller
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i dont even like it its too dark. |
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http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms." | |
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| Midst Of Vampy | 8 Jun 2010, 06:31 PM Post #9 |
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Barabbas
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heehee. MUWAAHAHAHAHAHAHA |
| TIMEY-WHIMEY SKITTLES! | |
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12:53 PM Jul 11