Power Hugs and Staple Guns… Click-click, click-click, click-click, click-click… Click-click, click-click, click-click, click-click …
There’s a mechanical noise coming from that room: Four double-clicks, a pause, then repetition. She tilts her head in curiosity, standing in the corridor; there’s no one else in the building. She retraces the few steps she took past that room, peeks inside, and enters. Remaining by the wall that’s a few meters behind him, hands clasped, she contemplates, fiddling with the hem of her beige skirt absently.
… Click-click, click-click, click-click, click-click… Click-click, click-click, click-click, click-click …
He doesn’t pay attention to anything; blinded with rage, he’s standing on a chair in front of the notice board, stapling up the papers sitting on the table beside him. Seemingly intent on transferring all his excess intensity out through the staple gun in his hand and into the board.
Jelly Beans and Chocolate RiversIt’s out of place, even ridiculous. She removes her coat and shoes, placing them, a black marker pen, and an aqua pad on the nearby bench. And she steps onto the frosted grass with bare feet, only a snowy, floaty dress for protection against the winter sting. She stands at the curved edge of a frozen lake, staring out at the icy expanse, thinking that if it was shattered into innumerable little pieces of cool crystal, too small to put back together, that might be an appropriate metaphor for what was gone, how life moved on, how she had to move on with it, surrounded by boundaries.
With closed eyes, she raises her head to the cloudy, grey sky she is unable to touch, taking a deep breath and spreading her arms wide, as if ready to embrace the solid liquid like it was a relic of the past. Humming a seamless melody, she begins a delicate dance, her black hair swaying, her dress floating around her like choreographed clouds.
She was no longer a child. What was that fantasy world, but
Moments 2Is it?
“Yannis? Does this shirt make me look fat?”
“. . .”
“. . . Is that a trick question?”
“You sleep with a teddy bear?”
“Yeah, I thought we discussed this?”
“Yeah, no, I meant, you sleep with a Teddy bear?”
“. . . Have you ever hugged Teddy, man? He’s so warm! Alice got some fiiiiine –”
Yannis hits Claude over the head with his sketchbook.
“Yannis. Yannis. Jam-nnis. Yanneees. Ya-nnis-Yannis-Ya-Ya-nnis-Yannis. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannis. Yo-nnis. Yanny-boy. Yan-jam. Y to the A to the N to the N to the ‘is’. Y-Y-Y-Y-Yannis. . .”
As this continues on, Yannis pauses outside Claude’s door, dumbfounded, stupefied, confused, as Claude cleans his room, dancing. And singing. Kind of.
“Um, have you. . .”
Moments 1Snacks and Tears
"WHY?! Oh. . . Oh, why?!" Claude flings himself onto Yannis's neck and breaks down completely, when the oversized ship on the large screen scrapes an iceberg.
Yannis looks down and stares at Claude for a full minute before
"I need more popcorn."
Yannis furrows his brows in concentration, focusing his camera on the bird resting in the tree. As soon as he presses the shutter button, he hears a thunk and the flurry of wings.
"Oh WHOOPS!" Claude yells, giggling madly and chasing after his basketball.
Claude walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge for his morning apple. But there aren't any there. He turns to look at Yannis, sitting with his feet up on the bar.
"Where's my apple, Yannis?" He asks calmly, breathing through his nose.
There's no reply. "Where. Is. My. Apple. Yannis?!"
Yannis pulls it out of his pocket. "I don't recall it being yours. But first, why don't you tell me what happened to my orang
PsychosocialFinalized. No turning back.
It's sunny outside and there's time to kill. Kill. How ironic. Assemble willpower, lock your aim. Grab the keys, turn the door handle, lock it.
Bright. I put my hands in my shorts' pockets. Where to go? Hmm. . .park. May as well enjoy the weather. Walk.
Avoid eye contact, prevent perception. I breathe deeply. Feign normalization.
Walking past shop windows, I observe. Short, purple, sequined dress. Perfect for acquiring surveillance from the Not-So-Harmless Stoned-Crème de la crème-In-The-Making, changing life to the melodramatics of another adolescent girl screwed over literally by her own exhibitionism. Typical.
Warm breeze. Hmm. . .parched. Damn the interminable encumbrance of anthropo-requirements. Well, they wouldn't vex me for too long. I need a hydrator.
Transient reroute to the store. Step inside, navigate the aisles. Water or sweet fluid? . . . Water. I take an eight oz. water bottle. Move to the cashier. Ensure façade is
Childhood: The Strawberry FieldFerri picked a strawberry, laid back in the field and stared at the clouds. She sighed contently and closed her eyes.
Skipping in shorts and a T-shirt, she munched on the berries and stared up at the sky. She was about to sit down, when straw and blades of grass were stuffed into her shirt and sprinkled on her hair, accompanied with young snickering.
"Gu-uys!" The little girl whined.
She attempted to brush herself up, but thought better of it and attacked her brothers back. Soon, the three of them were on the floor, lying on top of each other, covered in straw, and laughing their heads off.
They sat up next to each other, watching the sunset, talking and nibbling on strawberries. Carefree, untroubled.
Those were the times when she could be with her brothers. She could laugh with them, talk to them, share with them, feel them, see them. She didn't have to reminisce about their memories, when she was still making them. She didn't have to miss them. She didn't need to drown
Evil Angel - Pt.2I opened my eyes slowly, and blinked at the clear blue sky above me. I sat up, and ran a hand through my hair. Hmm . . . perhaps I’d been dreaming? I stood up, and the noise around me suddenly crashed into my ears. Looking around, I realized I wasn’t at home. I stood up, wondering why I was lying on the street in the first place. I looked at the crowd of people. They were all looking panicked and horrified, but before I had a chance to see what all the commotion was about, I caught sight of not only a particularly relaxed face, but . . . it was glowing slightly. I gasped, closed my eyes, shook my head lightly, and looked at him again. Still there, leaning against a building with his arms crossed. He had messy, pure black hair, just like mine but slightly longer, unnaturally vivid, flaming orange irises, and clear, white skin. Undoubtedly, he was handsome, but at the same time . . . so malicious. He was the only person around us who was looking, directly, at me – he lo
How To Save A LifeStep one, you say, "We need to talk"
He walks, you say, "Sit down it's just a talk"
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
"Hey. Come on, let's talk. Sit here." I say, motioning towards the couch. He looks like he's going to leave. "Just sit." I urge.
He sits, and he gives me an artificial smile, as if he doesn't know why I want to talk to him. I just watch him.
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
You begin to wonder why you came
"You know why we're here. We need to sort out this problem of yours, and I think it's best if you talk to someone about it." I say.
He stays silent.
"You used to tell me about this before, you used to let it all out. And then you stopped. You started keeping everything bottled up inside. You closed up. It's not right. You'll start to wither." I start. "Everyone needs an outlet. You're my friend. You know I'll do anything to help you, if you would just
Soul of Half a HeartWhat a beautiful soul, I thought, as I sat on the balcony railing, waiting impatiently for the sun to set. I had seen such a magnificent soul today . . . it was an unexpected surprise. The crowd was large, who would have thought I would spot an extraordinaire with a simple turn of my head? That soul had stood out over all else, shining like a bright beacon made just for me. There were people around; unfortunately, I knew I would have to wait for it. So I'd followed it until it went home; that way, I would know where to come back for it.
As I shifted restlessly, I thought of the beautiful delicacy of that soul. The fragility, the warmth, the light . . . the perfection . . . Its radiance and energy were more profound than any other I had seen. Even the common ones were silken soft to the touch, so I wondered what this extraordinaire would feel like.
I glared at the sun, willing it to sink faster. I was anxious to get going. . . I had promised myself to wait until I found the r