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Literature Text
Two people, bus stop, rain pour.
The first of the two arrives in a half frenzy, close to tears, handling papers with clumsy hands and crying openly because tears and raindrops are indistinguishable in the current weather. Stupid, stupid, the first thinks, my parents always told me to keep myself in order and not to leave the house carrying a thousand papers. Well. They cringe as some bit of paper, miraculously dry, cuts their fingers as they rush along the sidewalk.
The second had arrived earlier, quietly, and sits on the bench provided for bus stop goers, looking into the growing puddle before themself with numb disinterest. No roof covers their head but they don't mind. It's always been cold for them. They sniff and count their fingers and eyes and toes and ears and whatever else can be accounted for without having to think very deeply. "It's cold." they mutter, a habit sentence. Time passes by without passion.
The frenzied One notices Two after a minute of sucking their bloody fingers, blinking away their tears self consciously. One is self aware of what a mess they are. Their hair is matted down against their scalp and their clothes cling to their form like a child to its mother. Two's eyes capture One's; One notices their color and the fact that they seem to be staring into nothing, or something past their current reality.
Two cracks their knuckles and yawns, glancing at One as they take a fidgety seat next to them. For whatever reason, Two contemplates smiling but the thought passes quickly. They, however, feel a different type of discontent than normal and they frown inwardly. They look at One again and study their facial features absently.
"Hello." Says One, embarrassed. They wrap their coat around themselves and shiver. "I look like a mess, don't I?" One smiles, eyes successfully withholding tears. There. They don't like to cry though they do it often. The eyes of Two captures One again and they wonder how long it's been since they've cried.
More rain. The sky is black.
After a minute, Two smiles back, nervous. Funny feeling. "Nah, not any worse than me."
"Hard to escape the sky, huh?" One looks ahead at the puddle, occupying themselves. The bus seems slower than usual.
"Yeah." Two allows their eyes to stare a little longer before going back to the puddle. "But it's not so bad."
"Really?" Little interest.
Two shrugs. "The sky looks beautiful." Something clicks in Two's head and they wonder why they'd said anything at all.
One looks at their shoes, wiping water from their own face. "Y'know, I thought so too."
No words but no silence; the sky is rumbling and thoughts whir in both heads.
The bus will come when it comes, One thinks in an attempt to relieve anxiety, no harm in talking, is there?
Not so cold after all, thinks Two, and there's nothing to lose in talking to someone I'll never meet again.
This thought pushes Two to the next sentence, question, "Where are you going?"
One snaps out of their rain induced trance, smiling again. "Oh, well. Work, I suppose." They look at the papers they'd messily stuffed into their bag with a note of sadness. "Not that I'll do much good once I get there."
"Wet papers?"
One nods. "Yeah." More than that. Something tugs them down constantly and they feel that that they're always rushing to nothing. Aimless wandering. What's the point in running when you have nowhere to run to?
Shrugging, they look intently at Two. "And you? Where to?"
The question catches Two off guard, even though they'd asked the question themselves. "Well." Two scratches their neck, sheepish. "I'm not really sure." The thought had filled Two with somber melancholy minutes before but strikes them as silly now. They suppose they'll figure it out as they go along; that's what the stranger seems to be doing, anyways.
"What're you going to do, then?"
More questions? "Not sure."
One continues relentlessly. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why not sure?"
"Oh." More shrugging. "I haven't been sure about anything for a long time."
A slower kind of remorse fills One and a grimace follows. "Me neither."
They catch each other's eye simultaneously and laugh nervously, looking away quickly.
More minutes.
The bus is delayed.
"Are you cold?" Says Two.
One laughs and sneezes. "Maybe a little."
"I have my coat…"
"Oh, no! You can keep it. Don't worry." Smiling, One unsheathes an umbrella. "I wonder why I hadn't thought of this before?" They stand and have trouble opening it, frowning. The wind is blowing hard on their fingers.
Two looks at them funnily. "Maybe you shouldn't—"
"No, no! I'm fine." One struggles with the clasp, embarrassed at all the problems they've been having all day.
"But—"
The umbrella flies open and turns inside out almost immediately, dragging One with it until it slips out of their fingers and into the blackening sky.
Two gets up clumsily and rushes after it, catching the umbrella before it floats too far overhead. They slip in the process, unable to stop their fall with an umbrella to fill their hands, falling on their back.
"Ow…"
One rushes over quickly, bewildered. What One meant to say was "Are you alright?" but instead they said "What'd you do that for?"
Two blushes and lets themselves get helped up by One, shaking off water like a dog, splattering One. "I don't know… I wanted to?"
"I see." One takes back their umbrella and smiles, trying to fix it.
Silence.
"Thank you." Says One, hurriedly. Then, "What's your name?"
The bus happens to arrive at this moment in time, moving with dead enthusiasm and stopping only reluctantly once the two waiting for it had been spotted.
Two and One laugh nervously, again, accompanying each other slowly to the bus stop.
"Maybe we should have lunch together, sometime." Says One, now oblivious to the rain and the annoying cuts on their fingers.
"We should…" Two stops, thinks, looks at One. "What about now?"
The rain pours.
The bus waits.
They look at each other, really look this time. A stray paper manages its way out of One's bag and flops into a puddle.
"Why not?"
The first of the two arrives in a half frenzy, close to tears, handling papers with clumsy hands and crying openly because tears and raindrops are indistinguishable in the current weather. Stupid, stupid, the first thinks, my parents always told me to keep myself in order and not to leave the house carrying a thousand papers. Well. They cringe as some bit of paper, miraculously dry, cuts their fingers as they rush along the sidewalk.
The second had arrived earlier, quietly, and sits on the bench provided for bus stop goers, looking into the growing puddle before themself with numb disinterest. No roof covers their head but they don't mind. It's always been cold for them. They sniff and count their fingers and eyes and toes and ears and whatever else can be accounted for without having to think very deeply. "It's cold." they mutter, a habit sentence. Time passes by without passion.
The frenzied One notices Two after a minute of sucking their bloody fingers, blinking away their tears self consciously. One is self aware of what a mess they are. Their hair is matted down against their scalp and their clothes cling to their form like a child to its mother. Two's eyes capture One's; One notices their color and the fact that they seem to be staring into nothing, or something past their current reality.
Two cracks their knuckles and yawns, glancing at One as they take a fidgety seat next to them. For whatever reason, Two contemplates smiling but the thought passes quickly. They, however, feel a different type of discontent than normal and they frown inwardly. They look at One again and study their facial features absently.
"Hello." Says One, embarrassed. They wrap their coat around themselves and shiver. "I look like a mess, don't I?" One smiles, eyes successfully withholding tears. There. They don't like to cry though they do it often. The eyes of Two captures One again and they wonder how long it's been since they've cried.
More rain. The sky is black.
After a minute, Two smiles back, nervous. Funny feeling. "Nah, not any worse than me."
"Hard to escape the sky, huh?" One looks ahead at the puddle, occupying themselves. The bus seems slower than usual.
"Yeah." Two allows their eyes to stare a little longer before going back to the puddle. "But it's not so bad."
"Really?" Little interest.
Two shrugs. "The sky looks beautiful." Something clicks in Two's head and they wonder why they'd said anything at all.
One looks at their shoes, wiping water from their own face. "Y'know, I thought so too."
No words but no silence; the sky is rumbling and thoughts whir in both heads.
The bus will come when it comes, One thinks in an attempt to relieve anxiety, no harm in talking, is there?
Not so cold after all, thinks Two, and there's nothing to lose in talking to someone I'll never meet again.
This thought pushes Two to the next sentence, question, "Where are you going?"
One snaps out of their rain induced trance, smiling again. "Oh, well. Work, I suppose." They look at the papers they'd messily stuffed into their bag with a note of sadness. "Not that I'll do much good once I get there."
"Wet papers?"
One nods. "Yeah." More than that. Something tugs them down constantly and they feel that that they're always rushing to nothing. Aimless wandering. What's the point in running when you have nowhere to run to?
Shrugging, they look intently at Two. "And you? Where to?"
The question catches Two off guard, even though they'd asked the question themselves. "Well." Two scratches their neck, sheepish. "I'm not really sure." The thought had filled Two with somber melancholy minutes before but strikes them as silly now. They suppose they'll figure it out as they go along; that's what the stranger seems to be doing, anyways.
"What're you going to do, then?"
More questions? "Not sure."
One continues relentlessly. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why not sure?"
"Oh." More shrugging. "I haven't been sure about anything for a long time."
A slower kind of remorse fills One and a grimace follows. "Me neither."
They catch each other's eye simultaneously and laugh nervously, looking away quickly.
More minutes.
The bus is delayed.
"Are you cold?" Says Two.
One laughs and sneezes. "Maybe a little."
"I have my coat…"
"Oh, no! You can keep it. Don't worry." Smiling, One unsheathes an umbrella. "I wonder why I hadn't thought of this before?" They stand and have trouble opening it, frowning. The wind is blowing hard on their fingers.
Two looks at them funnily. "Maybe you shouldn't—"
"No, no! I'm fine." One struggles with the clasp, embarrassed at all the problems they've been having all day.
"But—"
The umbrella flies open and turns inside out almost immediately, dragging One with it until it slips out of their fingers and into the blackening sky.
Two gets up clumsily and rushes after it, catching the umbrella before it floats too far overhead. They slip in the process, unable to stop their fall with an umbrella to fill their hands, falling on their back.
"Ow…"
One rushes over quickly, bewildered. What One meant to say was "Are you alright?" but instead they said "What'd you do that for?"
Two blushes and lets themselves get helped up by One, shaking off water like a dog, splattering One. "I don't know… I wanted to?"
"I see." One takes back their umbrella and smiles, trying to fix it.
Silence.
"Thank you." Says One, hurriedly. Then, "What's your name?"
The bus happens to arrive at this moment in time, moving with dead enthusiasm and stopping only reluctantly once the two waiting for it had been spotted.
Two and One laugh nervously, again, accompanying each other slowly to the bus stop.
"Maybe we should have lunch together, sometime." Says One, now oblivious to the rain and the annoying cuts on their fingers.
"We should…" Two stops, thinks, looks at One. "What about now?"
The rain pours.
The bus waits.
They look at each other, really look this time. A stray paper manages its way out of One's bag and flops into a puddle.
"Why not?"
Literature
Night
Her riveting black dress flowed,
Ominously through the dark air.
Her fiery curls surged,
Consuming all they may ensnare.
She poised her menacing claws;
For there were no signs more of day,
As she lingered in the distance,
Closing in on her credulous prey.
Triumphant, but vigilant,
Her foul radiance spreads fear through the air'
She maneuvers amongst the emptiness,
And a foreboding sense is there.
As she wraps her arms around her victim,
Not a single cry is heard.
She takes him to his rightful place,
Without another word.
She diminishes into the darkness,
And no longer is in sight,
For no one can escape,
The terrible, formidable night.
Literature
Midnight blessings
Midnight stars gazing at the silhouettes against the glass—
the pair that chose to stay by the angels that guide in darkness.
For though they know they're free to explore the castle of their dreams,
they knew that all their dreams and blessings were right there in that room
on this special night that promises to become a yesterday
that tomorrow will never cease to love or to remember.
Literature
The Escape Princess
Tell me your sweet words,
Breathe life into my thoughts,
Don't leave me sitting naked by the phone.
I keep driving by the spot where I met you,
Hoping I will catch your shadow shrinking,
How quickly the watcher becomes the watched.
Hey you, I dreamt that you were listening but
My words are doomed to echo through space until they fall upon your ear
Or else vanish without a trace into the atmosphere.
7:38 comes too late for my venerable venom
And now you are lost adrift the sea between us.
I cried for the cast away idea of you,
For lost potential,
For knowing I will miss your profound words,
And your rare essence.
So acute was the stab
Whe
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This is what I get for having love on the brain and watching hearing music aaaaaaaand writing at one in the morning after homework.
Eesh.
(Not my best but I always feel the need to submit something, forgive me?)
[link]
^love this song
Eesh.
(Not my best but I always feel the need to submit something, forgive me?)
[link]
^love this song
© 2012 - 2024 willwriteforhearts
Comments14
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I liked this very much (: great job (: