This is where I'll put everything non-anime related. I will definitely put in short stories, possibly some poetry, and...maybe a chapter story. We'll see. Hope you enjoy!
- Created By cherrichan13
Forever's Not Forever
Twirl your hair, bat your eyes, it won’t do anything for you now. Daddy isn’t here to bring back what you want.
The air smelled like dusty old memories, like tears long buried and forgotten. The heat swelled up from the sun-scorched pavement, blistering and angry against my bare feet. I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all anymore. Because they were never coming back. My home was gone, and they were never coming back.
But you came, exactly when I needed you. I felt curl your arm around my shoulders as I stood there in the street, shielding me from the sun. The sun reminded me of them. I clung to you, despite everything that had happened. Because of everything that had happened.
*****
I always dreamed of having a happy, Hallmark relationship, full of secret love letters and chocolates and roses, nights spent with you on a lonely stretch of highway. I never thought we’d be the ones to have it. But I loved it. It was all I ever wanted.
And the last thing I was left with when they all left me all alone on Earth.
Or almost alone. I still had you.
And so we laid there in the sparkling, sugar-dusted sky, your fingers filling the spaces between mine. You asked me if this was what forever felt like. And when I thought about a forever with you, for a moment I could forget the last time I ever saw my family alive, forget the bleak run-on days at school, forget those all-too-fake-sympathetic looks and pity-presents and hugs that everyone around me seemed to think would make me feel better. And all I needed to remember when I was with you was the way our stars looked at night. I hope so, I said.
And for a while, our forever was enough. You made the pain that threatened to overpower me in crushing waves lessen to a trickle.
But the little memories of the life I had lost still seeped in. Me and Mom baking a cake for Dad’s birthday and getting into a flour fight. Dad pushing me on the swing. My little sister tugging at my hand and begging me to play Barbie with her. Going to Disneyworld and riding the Tower of Terror until I puked. All of us piling on the couch just to watch some old movie from the 60’s and finding out that the only good part was listening to a penniless woman scream “Move your bloomin’ arse!” during a horserace full of uptight rich people.
We had stopped the tape right after that part.
*****
Now roses are overrated and chocolates make me nauseous. And our long nights under the sky together only made me lonely. Because you were still just as sweet as the day I had met you, but instead of seeing the green in your eyes, I saw the grass under the swing Daddy used to push me on, and instead of feeling your arms around me I felt my little sister tugging at my clothes like she always used to when she wanted me to play with her. I don’t want to remember you this way.
So I went back to my house alone that night. Alone forever…whatever forever was. Because apparently it wasn’t what we had thought.
I laid in the grass and stared up at the velvety night sky. There are no fingers in between mine. Stars sparkled in my eyes, and I hoped they would flow up into the sky too, up where they would be seen, be loved, be remembered. Where they couldn’t fade.
And the next day, I pushed myself on the swings. I gave all of my sister’s Barbie dolls to the little girl down the street. My sister would have wanted me to. She always used to say they need to be taken care of.
*****
I saw you walking down the sun-scorched street in a pair of brand new sneakers today. Your arm was around another girl’s shoulders, holding her close. You saw me and gave me a timid smile, something at once undeniable and unforgettable in your eyes. And I smiled back at you, thinking, his eyes are such a beautiful shade of green.
I’m glad you’re happy now. Now that you’re happy, and you’re free, maybe I can be, too.
Blame It On You
I’ve always loved the frost.
I don’t know why. Maybe it was the crisp intricate designs it made on my window. Maybe it was the way it crunched underfoot.
Or maybe it was the way it reminded me of you. My flower, you would call me.
Frost kills flowers, my mother always used to say, shaking her head as she fingered the brittle breaking petals of her beloved plants. But not me. I thrived on it. On you. Frost is easy to melt, I told myself. I believed that I could be the one to warm you. Turn those steely glares into looks of love. Be your own personal Supergirl.
Maybe it’s what you wanted. Maybe it’s not. Maybe I shouldn’t still be here, out in the cold, by myself, changing everything for a person who isn’t even here anymore. But I’m not sure how to get back.
Frost kills flowers, my mom always told me. It hasn’t killed me, but it still makes me think of you, still makes my heart ache.
Frost is easy to melt.
Ready, Set, Meet the Pavement
Ring, ring.
There is nothing in the world that I hate more than the telephone.
Ring, ring.
It expects more of me than I do. It always asks something of me that I never want to give.
Ring, ring, RING.
I never want to answer it. I want to-
RING!
I pick up the phone.
They want to go out again. Just like every other Friday night. Every week we pile into someone’s car. They’re usually already drunk. I pretend to laugh while they “pretend” to poke fun at me. But we all know they mean it. Every word.
<<<<<
This week’s party is at some jock’s house. None of it is any different. I do what I’m supposed to do; I smile and I flirt and I flip my hair like I’m having the time of my life. They fall for it every time. They actually believe that I want to be here. That I’m one of them.
But I’m not.
I sip water from the bottle I brought with me. They all think I spiked it with straight-up alcohol. They all think I’m hardcore.
Good. Let them think that.
There is never anything in those bottles but water. I’m just not stupid enough to drink in a room full of idiotic, vicious, socially bloodthirsty teenagers. Or maybe I’m not brave enough.
<<<<<
The room is spinning now. A vertigo of noise. And people. They’re nothing more to me than colors. They’re only faceless blobs. Identical, faceless blobs.
Not a single one of them is real.
I’m not even sure I’m real. Not anymore.
The hours wear away and finally we can leave. We all get ready to pile into the car again. The guy I’ve been talking to offers to drive me home. I refuse, regretfully. He’ll turn out to be just like every other guy out there, no matter how sweet he is to me. But I won’t fall for their tricks. I’m different. I’m different. I’m different.
They’re calling me, yelling at me to hurry up in their unbelievably snobbish voices. They’re used to getting what they want. So I hurry over to the car, faking a smile when they ask me what took me so long.
Nothing, I say. It’s not important.
<<<<<
The drive home is almost as obnoxious as the party. They gossip, laughing and giggling. I’m too busy trying to blend in with the upholstery to say much of anything.
They’re driving like manics. They’re way too drunk to be driving. I think I’m going to puke. Maybe I should take the wheel. I hang my head out of the window instead. They think I’m funny. So I stick my head further out the window. I’m rewarded with more laughter. It’s so easy to keep them happy. It’s not as easy to calm my stomach.
<<<<<
Finally, finally, they screech to a stop across from my house. I practically fall out of the back seat and onto the pavement.
All I’m thinking about is how glad I am to be away from there, away from them. I’m walking really fast now, towards my house. Trying to keep my keep my stomach in line. At least until I get inside and they can’t see me. I don’t want them to tell me I’m weak. I can still hear them giggling as they rev the engine, the tires squeaking on the pavement.
I walk faster. I want to run. Far. Fast. Be anywhere but here. I’m going to be sick. I don’t want them to see me be sick. But I can’t let them see me run. They’ll call me weird.
I’m different. I’m different. I’m different. It’s a good thing. I’m different.
They’re screaming my name. I turn towards the car. I had never really noticed how fast a car can go until it was coming towards me. I see panic in their eyes. I feel it thrilling through me. The car’s going faster now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What am I supposed to do?!
“REBECCA!”
But I’m free.
End
