Train Rides and Book PagesHe never really did like trains. He looks up at the sky and sighs, waiting.
The light of the setting sun seeps in, dousing the red seats in a sort of golden glow. She picks up the book she was reading from the smooth wood of the table in front of her, bringing up her legs and settling into another comfortable position in the corner of her window seat, immersed in the brightly lit black words. Earphones trail down from under the brown locks framing her face, blocking the subdued rhythm of the wheels.
That rhythm gradually ebbs away before coming to a halt. A minute later, she vaguely registers somebody on the opposite side of the table set something on it – vaguely, until the rhythm resumes with a slight jolt and a few loose papers from the bound ream flip over and spill across the surface and she looks up.
A tired looking man a few years older than her, likely in his early twenties, sighs somewhat dejectedly and bends down to pick a sheet up off the floor, and she hands over one
Moments 3A Thousand -
“Yannis, I have something I want you to hear.”
Claude starts singing. His choice of song startles Yannis momentarily; he then regains his senses as Claude breaks into chorus.
“I have died every day waiting for you, darling don’t be afraid I have loved you, for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand mo –”
He received a bottle of Dove lotion to the head.
“QUIT PLAYING AROUND, CLAUDE!”
“What should I draw? I can’t think of anything. Any ideas, Claude?”
“Draw me like one of your French girls!” Claude moves to remove his –
“NO!” Yannis roared.
Inner Eye: Tribute to Trelawney
“What’ll I be doing in the future, Yannis?”
“Oh, let me just use my Inner Eye. Get me my huge bug-eye-forming glasses, beads, shawls and a crystal ball, Claude, and I’ll tell you.”
“Yannis, you shoul
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