Could I have loved him?
I think back and I have no clue. I can’t
honestly remember if I did or not. I would love to say no; one, I never trusted
him, and two, I think I would remember something that monumental. But there are
nights when I wake up and I miss him- my lashes are wet with tears and I can
remember dreaming him up and feeling something…It could be love, it could be my
imagination’s perceptions of love. I don’t know. But there are other nights when
his wolf eyes follow me and I hate him.
He was a beautiful creature.
That I remember clearly- human beings do not deserve to be that beautiful. It
was like all the leftover pieces of heavenly beings- the traits no angel wanted-
had been molded together to form him. Of course, he is just the person I would
be attracted to- he didn’t look like anyone else, he didn’t talk like anyone
else, he didn’t act like anyone else. He wasn’t as predictable as anyone else.
No one could shake me like he could; my very core trembled and burst with every
look, touch, word. He kept me on edge and alert.
Can you blame me for
accepting his ring, then? He was promising to stay with me; security and
instability were wrapping themselves around me in the most twisted of ways. But
I have to ask myself, honestly- would I have agreed to marry him if I did not
love him? Truth be told, ‘love’ and ‘marriage’ were two deities that did not
connect in my head. Look at my parents; if there was any love in that marriage,
it died out by the time I was born. So maybe I did not love him.
What I
do remember is the hate that coursed through me as soon as I realized it had
been him- my parents were laying there on the cold tile floor of my old kitchen,
and he had been responsible for taking their lives. As I am responsible for
taking his. He said to me- they were fools. They stood in His way. We- that
unholy syllable- would stand strong by Him, together. His eyes fell once- his
pearlescent, piercing, too-pale eyes faltered only one time. I think he knew,
then, what was in my mind.
He would not stand with strong, not with me,
not by Him, not at all. His body crumpled, falling between theirs- the world’s
most absurd, beautiful creation broken, dead on the floor of the Heath Manor.
His eyes stared up at me, still alert, still shocked, still searching. Even
death did not dim his eyes. Even death did not shake him from me- my entire life
has been determined by him. He follows me everywhere, watching me, darkening my
days and stalking me in my sleep, whispering in my ear during every sacred
silent moment-
Could I have loved him?
12.31.2008
Old Character Piece 1
[Just to shake things up and give a break much-needed break from Desperate. This is an old character piece for one of my favorite characters, Vee. It's a journal entry, and there's a lot of back story to it, but I love the voice and some snippets of it, so here it goes.]
12.14.2008
desperate - part II
Ding.
Ding.
Arielle smiled. There was only one person in her entire circle of acquaintences that played pinball, let alone advertised that they played pinball, let alone made a list of serial screen names about the fact that they played pinball, and that was Cadance. Cadance, self-declared Screen Name Queen, had more instant messenger identities than Paris Hilton had shoes, for she was constantly growing bored with her old names. Arielle clicked the window opened, instinctively adding this new Cadance alias to her buddy list.
Legally Blonde 2?!
I'm jealous.
Letting her fingers dance out her reply, Arielle wheezed a laugh. "L........o........l. What's....going....on.....there?"
A pause. Ding.
We're up to our elbows in frog guts.
Well, we were.
Now we're up to our elbows in grease-flavored cardboard. Wheeee cafeteria fries!
I haven't decided which is worse.
Fifth period lunch. The highlight of Arielle's day, that today, she was deprived of. "Frog....guts? Now.....I'm....jealous."
Fifth period lunch was a forty-seven-minute block of wonder, brought about by uncensored jokes, unlimited volume, and Kellen. Kellen himself was a six-foot-two block of wonder, topped with the softest brown hair imaginable and eyes like the Adriatic. Fifth period lunch was the only time of day that Arielle found herself within ten feet of Kellen while his girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Fifth period lunch was a wonderful, wonderful time.
Everyone wants to know where you are.
And why you're partying without them.
I assured them that you're on your deathbed.
They're satiated.
"Well....isn't....that......sweet.....of them." Arielle hesitated. Before she could ask Cadance for a play-by-play recount of everything that had occured in her absence, there was a Ding.
Kellan wants to be sure you've left all your worldly possessions to him.
I told him I get your pants.
He said Damn. Lmao.
The Hallelujah Chorus was having a jam session in Arielle's soul. She moved her cursor to Kellan's screenname, mentally noting to thank Cadance profusely when he wasn't around.
"It's......heartwarming......how.....my.......death........is......a........fiscal...........advancement.....for you. Gold-digger."
A pause. Ding. New Message from Kell215.
LoL. Love U.
"You....still.....don't.......get.......my.....pants." Arielle slapped her palm to her forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, DUMBASS!
Aww. ):
Arielle sighed. The twenty-first century came along with a new method of torture, and it was AIM.
[So....yes. Not so proud of this part; less writing and more digital dialogue. Well, more groundwork has been laid out. Sorry for the wait, busy busy busy. More coming. Hopefully better.]
Ding.
Arielle smiled. There was only one person in her entire circle of acquaintences that played pinball, let alone advertised that they played pinball, let alone made a list of serial screen names about the fact that they played pinball, and that was Cadance. Cadance, self-declared Screen Name Queen, had more instant messenger identities than Paris Hilton had shoes, for she was constantly growing bored with her old names. Arielle clicked the window opened, instinctively adding this new Cadance alias to her buddy list.
Legally Blonde 2?!
I'm jealous.
Letting her fingers dance out her reply, Arielle wheezed a laugh. "L........o........l. What's....going....on.....there?"
A pause. Ding.
We're up to our elbows in frog guts.
Well, we were.
Now we're up to our elbows in grease-flavored cardboard. Wheeee cafeteria fries!
I haven't decided which is worse.
Fifth period lunch. The highlight of Arielle's day, that today, she was deprived of. "Frog....guts? Now.....I'm....jealous."
Fifth period lunch was a forty-seven-minute block of wonder, brought about by uncensored jokes, unlimited volume, and Kellen. Kellen himself was a six-foot-two block of wonder, topped with the softest brown hair imaginable and eyes like the Adriatic. Fifth period lunch was the only time of day that Arielle found herself within ten feet of Kellen while his girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Fifth period lunch was a wonderful, wonderful time.
Everyone wants to know where you are.
And why you're partying without them.
I assured them that you're on your deathbed.
They're satiated.
"Well....isn't....that......sweet.....of them." Arielle hesitated. Before she could ask Cadance for a play-by-play recount of everything that had occured in her absence, there was a Ding.
Kellan wants to be sure you've left all your worldly possessions to him.
I told him I get your pants.
He said Damn. Lmao.
The Hallelujah Chorus was having a jam session in Arielle's soul. She moved her cursor to Kellan's screenname, mentally noting to thank Cadance profusely when he wasn't around.
"It's......heartwarming......how.....my.......death........is......a........fiscal...........advancement.....for you. Gold-digger."
A pause. Ding. New Message from Kell215.
LoL. Love U.
"You....still.....don't.......get.......my.....pants." Arielle slapped her palm to her forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, DUMBASS!
Aww. ):
Arielle sighed. The twenty-first century came along with a new method of torture, and it was AIM.
[So....yes. Not so proud of this part; less writing and more digital dialogue. Well, more groundwork has been laid out. Sorry for the wait, busy busy busy. More coming. Hopefully better.]
12.13.2008
desperate - part I
Click.
Click.
Click.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
And then began the profanities.
There were a lot of things that Arielle Apostolos did not appreciate on Tuesdays at three in the afternoon. One was nausea. Another was headaches. A third was unending, excruciating pain. But most of all, on that particular Tuesday at three in the afternoon, when nausea, headaches, and excruciating pain had been boxed into a neat little package of discomfort and tied up in a formaldehyde-laced ribbon, she deeply did not appreciate a truckload of the utter crap dubbed day time television. Even On-Demand featured nothing but sappy love ditties, and, on the other end of the Cinema Garbage spectrum, slasher thrillers- two genres that could only make her more sick.
Tossing the TV remote to her feet, Arielle pulled her laptop out from beneath the couch and let it buzz unpleasantly to life. It was days like this that instant messenger was her best friend, because it was her link to her best friends. With a click of the keyboard she exited out of AIM Dashboard, uninterested in the daily headline of Creepy Banjo Kid From Deliverance- Only Made Three Movies Since!
Whoever wrote that was having a slower day than she was.
Somewhere between the Rocky Statue and Cheesesteaks, Philadelphia should have been famous for its rate of students who spent their school day with their eyes glued to side-kick screens. Not one for statistics, Arielle would have found that disgusting any other day. In fact, most days, she publicly protested the use of phones with full keyboards by singing Barry Manilow at the top of her lungs whenever the piece of technological waste was brought out into the open. But that day, she would step off her ethical soap box and cut the instant-messengers a break; she now understood first-hand the dire need for electronic communication.
XxARxEExLxX - bored, sick, and in desperate need for mental stimulation before Legally Blonde Two fries my brain completely.
Well. She had put her plea for digital interaction out there, and now it was time to wait for someone- anyone at all- to reply, be her virtual White Knight in her damsel in distress moment. Curled up in Snoopy pajamas and knee socks plastered with Bart Simpson's head, Arielle let her eyes glide down her buddy list, stopping at one name...
...No. She dared not message him.
[yayyyyy crappy cliff hanger! if anyone has any ideas where this is going...or gives two cents...please let me know. :))) i'll be posting the continuation of this...piece...eventually! perhaps even tonight! huzzah! cheers!]
Click.
Click.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
And then began the profanities.
There were a lot of things that Arielle Apostolos did not appreciate on Tuesdays at three in the afternoon. One was nausea. Another was headaches. A third was unending, excruciating pain. But most of all, on that particular Tuesday at three in the afternoon, when nausea, headaches, and excruciating pain had been boxed into a neat little package of discomfort and tied up in a formaldehyde-laced ribbon, she deeply did not appreciate a truckload of the utter crap dubbed day time television. Even On-Demand featured nothing but sappy love ditties, and, on the other end of the Cinema Garbage spectrum, slasher thrillers- two genres that could only make her more sick.
Tossing the TV remote to her feet, Arielle pulled her laptop out from beneath the couch and let it buzz unpleasantly to life. It was days like this that instant messenger was her best friend, because it was her link to her best friends. With a click of the keyboard she exited out of AIM Dashboard, uninterested in the daily headline of Creepy Banjo Kid From Deliverance- Only Made Three Movies Since!
Whoever wrote that was having a slower day than she was.
Somewhere between the Rocky Statue and Cheesesteaks, Philadelphia should have been famous for its rate of students who spent their school day with their eyes glued to side-kick screens. Not one for statistics, Arielle would have found that disgusting any other day. In fact, most days, she publicly protested the use of phones with full keyboards by singing Barry Manilow at the top of her lungs whenever the piece of technological waste was brought out into the open. But that day, she would step off her ethical soap box and cut the instant-messengers a break; she now understood first-hand the dire need for electronic communication.
XxARxEExLxX - bored, sick, and in desperate need for mental stimulation before Legally Blonde Two fries my brain completely.
Well. She had put her plea for digital interaction out there, and now it was time to wait for someone- anyone at all- to reply, be her virtual White Knight in her damsel in distress moment. Curled up in Snoopy pajamas and knee socks plastered with Bart Simpson's head, Arielle let her eyes glide down her buddy list, stopping at one name...
...No. She dared not message him.
[yayyyyy crappy cliff hanger! if anyone has any ideas where this is going...or gives two cents...please let me know. :))) i'll be posting the continuation of this...piece...eventually! perhaps even tonight! huzzah! cheers!]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
