Flightless Wings

Discussion in 'Archives' started by Emzy ♥, Dec 1, 2009.

  1. Aura Goddess

    Feb 8, 2008
    Safest Haven
    Nice, very nice. People are starting to figure out, I assume. Another wonderful chapter.

    I love that. I don't know why but I just love it so much. I read in my mind with so much anger, so I'm guessing that's why I love it. XD
    Please continue.
  2. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase Seven
    Killing Time

    I watched the curtains close, a small tear dribbling from my right eye as I sighed. I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder, causing my attention to stray from the altar and to the addressor of such an action. My uncle – father’s older brother – smiled down at me. I returned the gesture, and he moved on to the slow beat of the solemn music that seemed to echo from every orifice of the building. The dark coat he wore fell to the back of his knees, tapping them rhythmically as he strolled. I admired such a man; he was brave, warm hearted, and such a strong person.
    “I’ll see you later, dear.” He smiled towards my mom, who did little but nod at him.
    Indeed, the atmosphere was dark, but as I stood staring at the grey steps and dimply-lit candles, a small flicker of hope seemed to spark my heart. Only small, but it was a start to something I hoped would be bigger.

    As the glasses were raised, the alcohol that embraced the innards of such tumblers shimmered in the lighting. It was red, translucent to the naked eye, and yet it seemed so strong within the transparent prison it sat within. I knew I wasn’t allowed a single drop of such a substance; an alcoholic beverage in the hands of a mere 7 year old child was simply unheard of, and most certainly a sour taboo in my mother’s eyes.
    I glanced towards my own glass, inhaling the intoxicating smell of raspberry and lemonade. I was never allowed such a drink within the walls of my house – “fizzy liquids are not healthy for adults, and certainly not good for young children” my mom would preach, whilst making her way to the bottom of yet another glass of copper-coloured liquid, which most certainly wasn’t squash of any kind.

    The room of close to fifty people filtered slowly, leaving just close family behind.
    I distinctly remember seeing my first fall of snow that day.

    It most certainly was the greatest day of my childhood.


    They’re lying. They don’t know anything about you. You’re fine on your own; if they try to help, they’ll just screw things up. Don’t let them worm their way in, Emma.

    “I swear to god, I’m eating.” I sighed, repeating that overused phrase of mine for possibly the seventh time now.
    Nurse Fitzgerald, seemingly unsure on what to believe, released a small sigh of her own. Her hand slowly clutched the receiver of the phone on her desk, the other, with a swift motion, excused me from her office and into the waiting room.
    “Who are you phoning?” I demanded as I lingered in the doorway. I felt another twist of anxiousness hit my stomach, but no emotion dare pass my face as I glared downward toward the staff member.
    “Oh hello, this is Nurse Fitzgerald from Trinity, and I’m phoning on behalf of your daughter, Emma Halson.” Her chirpy voice seemed light-hearted as she ignored my question, and continued to speak down the receiver.

    Lie your way out of it. Tell them what they want to hear. Don’t give them the pleasure of telling you that you’re fucked up. It isn’t worth it. They’ll just add salt to the wounds.

    “You’re going to be monitored at lunch by the staff in the kitchens.”
    I sighed. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply sighed. If I protested, they would catch on.
    They’re trying to catch you out. Don’t let them be the boss of you. Make fools out of them all; show them how we are far stronger than they think. We’ll kill them. Kill them inside. Make them look more like idiots. We’ll do it.
    “Fine then.” I replied hastily, but with eyes set in stone. I was going to regret this, but hell, they weren’t going to call my bluff.

    This is war, bitch, and my guns are ready to fire.


    I stared out of my bedroom window in a slight daze, sighing as a small white dot soared from the sky. Several followed, cushioning each object they landed upon in some form of expertly executed military attack. The general, Jack Frost, was sure to storm through the town once night struck; he was a coward like that, never showing his miserable face, always performing each manoeuvre under a discreet blanket of night-time air. I envied him; he had such an easy job, an easy life, as his objectives given to him are simple: spread his crystals and diamond sheets throughout town and cities, and let his minion flakes do the rest through daylight hours. I want to be him. I want to be Jack Frost.

    Perhaps I’m insane.

    Startling me from my insanity-trip, vibrations emitted from my pocket caused me to jump. My mattress, although old, still held a good bounce, throwing my body from its sitting position completely, sending me into a faceplant on the bedroom floor.
    “Oh my god...” I mumbled, curling onto my side as I threw my hand into my pocket and pulled out my mobile. It took me a moment, but my eyes regained focus on what the words on the screen read: two New Messages.
    Oh, joy.
    I knew immediately that it would be Samantha, being her old nosey self and asking why I was sent home early. I would have bet my life on it.

    Ignoring the stinging sensation that gripped my facial area, I opened the first message. As predicted, it was Samantha enquiring on why I left her alone in gym class. Oh, sympathy goes far with that girl.
    The second, from an unknown number, took me by surprise.
    I hope you’re feeling better, Emma. You looked like something was on your mind when I saw you today. Phone me if you need anything, okay? (: X

    I stared at the screen.
    “Looks like Samantha has been passing around my number, huh.” I sighed, deleting the message and throwing my phone to my bed.
    I glared towards the piece of furniture, feeling a small burn of irritation hit my eyes.
    “Oh, I don’t see you throwing the phone off the bed, now, do I?” I raised my voice a little, leering at the messed up duvet and various stuffed animals. “What? Is the phone LIGHT enough for you now? Am I too HEAVY for you to fucking handle?”

    I paused, blinking.
    Congratulations. You have just argued with an inanimate object. One more step towards total insanity.

    I hate myself.
  3. Aura Goddess

    Feb 8, 2008
    Safest Haven
    Interesting. Everything with Emma is beginning to get a lot more interesting. And she really must dislike eating. The only complaint I could have is the end when she says, "I hate me." you probably should put "myself" instead of having "me". Sounds kind of odd with "me" instead of "myself."
    Do continue, though.
  4. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Thanks for that correction, love. It seems that I wrote in slap-dash slang there, for a moment, leaving it to be a spit infinitive. (Grammar freak) -_-"

    Thanks for your support, and thanks to anybody else who has read the story, and especially to those who have reviewed.

  5. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    @ Aura- you are correct and yet this story is written rather informally and I think "me" could be considered acceptable here.

    This was epic. I actually chuckled for a while, despite the serious undertones this whole story holds.

    You're doing really well, as usual. I'm curious to know what her father did to her as a child, and who this mysterious texter is. Maybe I'm just a romantic, but I hope it's a guy. xD
  6. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase Eight
    Hello There

    Firm, reprimanding, hands took hold of my collar. I could feel their grip tightening, burning down my air supply like flame to candle wax. But faster. Much faster.
    A scream. Blood-curdling, spine-chilling, hair-raising, blasted from my lungs. It echoed, echoed from the barren walls, only to be heard by the purveyor of actions provoking such a shriek.
    I was going to die. Die in the hands that built the badly structured childhood I barely balanced upon. The hands that moulded the disfigured psyche I held.
    Those hands. Those firm, reprimanding hands.
    The coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth as he attempted to finish me off. I let him. If I fought back, he would get angrier. I would only be wasting what little energy I had.
    Crack. Crunch. Squelch.
    He was taking jabs at my stomach. I could feel each twig-like rib snap under the pressure of such rage-driven fists. Everything he did told me how much he hated me. Everything that happened told me how much he hated me. Each stammer of blood. Each crunch of bone. It all told the same story; he wants me dead.

    “Steve?” A single voice, a single word, a single tone used, all shed the same amount of light on the situation at hand. She was here. The one person who could stop him had arrived; a little late, maybe, but my saviour had come for me in the end.

    “She...she threw something at me.” He stammered. “The kid threw something at me.”


    “They’re going to find out.”
    “Of course they’re not; we’ll work together to stop that from happening.”
    “Since when have you wanted to work together with me?”
    “Since now. I don’t want us going down here; they could wreck our lives.”
    “My life. They could wreck my life.”
    “It’s the same thing, Emma.”
    “...That’s the frightening part.”

    “Emma, who are you talking to?”
    “Nobody, mom.”
    “I heard you talking. You were having a full conversation with thin air.”
    “I wasn’t talking to anyone, will you just drop it?”

    “...Close call.”
    “Fuck off...”
    “Oh, now your temper is flaring, huh?”
    “Will you go away?”
    “Say please.”
    “Will you go away...Please?”
    “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
    “I hate you.”
    “This, in turn, means you hate yourself.”


    The vibrations that shook my phone across the battered duvet grew more and more frequent throughout the night. I remained motionless, my eyes unable to focus on anything but the black Sony Ericsson that danced about my bed.
    “Go away.” I grumbled, resting my head on the worn carpet that laced my flooring. It smelt of stale cigarettes, like a big, black, nicotine patch.

    A small slither of metal – barely visible, if not for the light that crawled through the crack in the doorway – shone towards my eyes. It was there. Calling me. My old friend.
    We share so many memories together; she has been with me through the pits of hell and back. And here she was. Making a reappearance when I need her the most. I use her. But then again, she doesn’t expect much more from me, unlike everyone else.

    I think it’s time we said hello again.
  7. Aura Goddess

    Feb 8, 2008
    Safest Haven
    @ Cariad- I was actually thinking the same thing before I posted but I kept repeating it in my head and it just sounded off for me. XD

    The beginning of the chapter was very good and interesting. I'm assuming that's her father, though. The ending, I'm not too sure why but I love it. Just the way you described it was good. The middle part I loved the most though. Although it was just dialogue, it was interesting to see Emma reacting that way. Keep it up.
  8. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    Emma is schizophrenic? Potentially an intresting twist away from the stereotypical angsty teenager.

    The first part made me feel ill, actually. I hate reading abuse scenes. :c

    Nice personification in the last section. I'm going to take a guess and say that her "old friend" is a blade or a knife that she used to self harm with. I'm getting the horrible feeling Emma is going to die at the end of this, but I want her to live and be happy. ;~;

    Good work as usual.
  9. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase Nine
    Let’s Have a Singsong

    Christmas time,
    Mistletoe and wine,
    Daddy has committed suicide,
    Mom is knelt by a bucket,
    On her hands on knees,
    I’m sobbing my heart out,
    And she’s laughing at me. ​

    I picked up another plastic bottle, placing it in the bag I carried around the living room. My hands shook, forcing the various pieces of glass and other materials to rattle about the sack.
    With a sharp gasp, I reversed a step, glancing to the cream carpet in disgust. The brown liquid that clung to the material moulded itself to the sole of my bare foot, releasing its foul odour into the stale atmosphere around me. I gagged, covering my mouth with my hand and dropping the black bag to the floor simultaneously.

    “Oh my god.”

    Watching the plughole drink away the sourly tainted water sent a sigh of release shuddering through my frame. I balanced my foot on the side of the bathtub, letting the light of the dimly shining bulb above me help inspect the small wounds I had sustained.
    Small shards of glass flickered in the light, smiling at me as I struggled to pry them out with small clippers.
    This was tradition.
    A party animal, tearing through the house in the festive season, leaving the residue of fractured bottles and memories alike behind for me to clean. This should come across as worrying, with the date of merry tidings arriving so soon after the bereavement of a figure seen to be so dear; the lack of mourning was disturbing.

    A sham of regurgitated liquids and crushed, spineless bottles plastered across any moveable space.
    An unmoving figure seemingly dead in the hallway.
    A tree, broken and deprived of the loving sprinkling of decorative objects, crooked and misshapen in a rustic corner.
    Cliff Richard blaring from the radio.

    ‘Tis the season to be jolly.


    It’s as if my mind was a cup, and what she said was water; it went in, stayed in, moulded perfectly into shape.

    I stared at the paper below me.
    It stared back.
    I sighed.
    It flickered slightly with a giggle.
    I gritted my teeth.
    It fell silent.
    I remained silent.
    The clock continued ticking away.

    “What I want you to do, Emma, is write down everything about yourself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Write down on that piece of paper right there, what you are like as a person.”
    “How the hell am I supposed to know about something when I'm scared of it?”
    “Are you implying that you don’t know who you are?”
    “Of course, I hardly know anything about myself. I swap and change insanely fast, it's hard to keep track.”
    “Just... Just write down anything you might know.”

    Emily-ann. Emily. Emmy. Emzy. Emma.
    My name has endured so many phases of shortening; I fail to care about what I’m named anymore. I don’t care about much anymore. It seems that words and actions have stripped me of most dignity, and killed the frail confidence I once held.
    And do you want to know what my reaction to it all is?
    Fuck you. Fuck you all.

    I looked back up.
    He looked back.

    “I’m done.”


    I smiled, giggling at the words that appeared on the screen of my phone. Another text message; the fifteenth that evening. She was insisting that I could talk to her about anything, and the butterflies that bounced around in my stomach seemed to nod in agreement as I questioned such a thing.
    She’s lying.
    “Becky wouldn’t lie to me.” I insisted with a whisper, smiling as I received another message. She made me smile a lot.

    It turns out that she had been bugging Samantha for my number for a while now, and Sam finally caved in when she’d had enough of hearing Becky’s voice in her ear whenever I wasn’t there.
    You’re a strong person. I know you are. You’ll survive. (: x
    She’s lying.
    “No. Becky wouldn’t lie to me.”
  10. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    It seems almost unbelievable that you told me a few hours ago that you had writer's block. :/

    I said I would CnC, but I actually have nothing to critisize. :b
    The song at the start was chilling, and the Christmas scene so messed up. Cliff Richard blasting out of the radio was the icing on the cake, really.

    The scene with the teacher (I think it was a teacher) actually reminds me of English a few years ago, when we had to write about ourselves. We were actually given exactly the same instructions. What you wrote made me smile, but rather bitterly. :l

    Mixed feelings about the last section. I don't want somebody to be messing with her.
  11. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase Ten
    Closing Curtains

    I have so many words to speak, and yet the breaths of which I need to speak them through are beyond my frail grasp.

    Have you ever felt like your world has collapsed? When you believe in something so strongly, and think it will last, think it is true, and all of a sudden, it ends? It ends with a part of you?

    It happened.
    It happened unexpectedly.
    It happened painfully.
    It happened fluently.
    It happened fast.
    It happened.
    And it killed me.


    When she told me I had the ability to pull through, I believed her, because I knew she wouldn’t lie to me. Just like the time she said she’d always be there for me. I believed her because I thought she wouldn’t lie to me.
    We had the type of relationship where things were based on trust and hope. We trusted each other, and felt hope in what the other held. We kept each other alive, and promised to fight to the end, through rain or shine.
    We were a pair of people who thrived on the pessimistic side of life. We laughed at your downfalls, and cried at our own. We were unable to comprehend how the good things stayed good, and knew that beneath it all, there was something dark and dismal waiting to pounce and devour all shards of happiness.
    We knew we were smart, because we were never happy. We were never happy because we saw things for what they were. We saw things for what they were because we were given the gift of truth.
    We seen it, we spoke it, we lived it.

    We always said how things would never change. We would be there for one another, because we were the only ones trustworthy in this melancholy-induced world. We would live together, we would laugh together, we would cry together, and we would die together. We were that kind of pair. We didn’t compromise on the optimistic.

    Can you imagine how hard the bullet hit when one found out it was all a lie?
    It hit hard. Tore my flesh savagely and bathed in my sour blood.
    It couldn’t have felt any better.


    Rebecca Katesworth. 15 years of age, no more than a mere week since such a number had arrived into her life.
    Oh, how the church bells sound so happy to say goodbye.
    Why did they like to mock me?
    I was crying. They were laughing. It was biting-wit mockery in the presence of God.
    What am I talking about? I have never believed in God in all my life, and yet here I am, hoping that he looks after her in some other faraway place.
    This, in truth, was a confirmation that life hated me. It hated me with a passion. It took the one person I craved to be near me, leaving me to choke on the dust of death’s fast heels.
    And Death was fast. He was very fast.
    Just not for me.

    Have ever had that moment where you want to end it? Where life has spat in your face for the last time?
    I can’t give it the satisfaction of watching me hurt anymore.

    It’s just not right.

    Authors Note: I think there are two more chapters before the final chapter. I'm sorry if updates are slow; life is kicking me in the face.
  12. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase 11
    Shutting windows

    Just because I claim to be strong, doesn’t mean I don’t cry myself to sleep each night wishing you were here with me.


    Mom... Let’s make this as painless as possible. See if I can answer as many questions as you may wonder.
    I know you will be crying when you read this, so I took the liberty of typing it out and printing it off for you, y’know, so the ink doesn’t run with your tears or smudge or anything.
    I’m sorry. I’ve made a big muck-up of my life, and lord help me, there is nothing I can do to save my mind from splitting further apart.
    I’ve lost a part of me. A big part of me. I guess you never discovered I was gay in the end? Hah, I’m glad, you’ve always been such a homophobe; I was shocked at how well you took to Uncle Darren being homosexual. Anyways. I’m going off topic, aren’t I?
    So yes. I lost a part of me. Last month, actually. Do you remember when I found out that she had died? I burst into tears and didn’t stop for three days straight. Her funeral came, and I was just motionless and zombified.
    Mom, she meant so much to me, you have no idea. Becky was special. She just didn’t realise how special she really was, and in the end, it killed her. That person inside her head killed her before I could tell her to stop.
    She called me half an hour before she jumped, and to be honest with you, she sounded amazing. She sounded happy, she sounded excited, and you know what, she was even making plans with me for the upcoming summer. We were going to go to the beach. We were going to go swimming. We were going to go to the park. We were going to take tons of pictures and stick them all over our bedroom walls to remember the year we were in love.
    Things were looking good. Until three hours into the future from that point, when her mom called you, and you walked into my room with that gaunt look on your face. I knew it had happened. Don’t wonder how, because I just DID.
    They found out about me not eating at school. It made me paranoid. I felt like I was being watched from every angle of my life by this one eye, and all it did was pick faults and laugh. Did the school try to help? Did they attempt to understand what was happening? Did they keep you informed on my weight and activity?
    Why, of course they did. Everyone did. Everyone cared about that matter. Everyone except you. I didn’t understand it. Did you have any idea how much that hurt? How much I cried?
    I doubt you do. And you never will, now.

    I had a friend. She was called Emma. She was my lovely alter-ego, and she told me the truth about the world. I used to be so optimistic, until she came out of her shell and flicked a light on in my head. That’s when I saw clearly. I saw the world so clearly, for what it really was.
    She didn’t shut up, sometimes.
    She didn’t leave me alone, sometimes.
    She told me lies, sometimes.
    She wanted me dead, sometimes.

    I stared at the computer screen, highlighted the text, and jammed my finger down forcefully on the ‘delete’ key. Why wasn’t I strong enough to do this?
    God hates you. He wants to keep you here to torture you. He wants to watch you cry into your pillow each night in bitter irony, and laugh as you scream into the cloth.
    “I know he does.” I sighed to myself, rubbing my eyes, and the slapdash cosmetics that plastered them. “I just hope he has enough popcorn to last the whole movie, really.”


    Sometimes, when you listen to the silence, it speaks to you.
    It tells you the terrors of the recent past, and the terrors soon to come.
    Silence often flows by the name of Misery.
    Misery loves company, and we are the blind date.
    We are those who listen.
    We are those who chose to stay long enough to learn.
    We learn about the terrors.
    And soon, we are the terrors.
  13. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    I almost couldn't bare to scroll down, I thought this was the end and got really anxious. ._.
    I have no CnC to give in all honesty, it was practically perfect prose. :l

  14. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    I almost couldn't bare to scroll down, I thought this was the end and got really anxious. ._.
    I have no CnC to give in all honesty, it was practically perfect prose. :l

  15. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    Phase 12
    Wrought-iron reunion.​

    Love is not admiration,
    It is the ability to let someone go,
    And never look back.


    I’ve always been a good liar. A good faker. A drama queen.
    I never doubted myself once when I shed those frail crocodile tears; I was searching for a good enough reason to sob my heart out, anyway.
    You believed me, too. Comforting me like that, with that half-arsed attempt at hugging me and telling me that things would be okay.
    I was going to write a suicide note. But, as per usual, I wasn’t strong enough to hurt you like that. So I’m just going to let you read this as I metaphorically smash your failure in your old withered face, and rub salt in the wounds left behind.
    I’ve escaped.
    I can bet you that at the time you are reading this, I am on cloud nine, that I’m soaring, that I’m happy for once. I am with the love of my life, and I am happy.
    You wanna know how I know this will all work? Because that bridge half a mile east of here has my name written all over it.

    Bet you didn’t see that one coming, bitch.

    Well. Enjoy your life. Waste is away with alcohol and cigarettes; they are the only things left in your life you can depend on to get the job done. You’re like a walking ashtray, coughing the tar and phlegm from your lungs whenever you’re not adding to it with those damn cancer sticks.
    As for the alcohol, well, you can have it; you always loved it more than me. Remember the time you traded me for a bottle of Jack Daniels when I was only 6 months old? You were shitfaced, and wanted some more booze. Heck, the one who gave you that bottle of crap was dad. Well. My stepdad.
    I hate calling him both of those words. It implies that he cares for me.

    Well, I’ve gotta go now. It’s about time I went.
    Ciao, whore.

    I smiled.
    “Now that’s more like it.”


    The air was rushing past me, whipping my black hair away from my face with one swift swipe. I could feel it hitting my teeth, sliding across my tongue, and gracing the innards of my throat. This is what I wanted: to get away from it all. And I swear, this was my final attempt.

    “...fucking early...”I sighed as I checked my watch, the exasperation of air seemingly unheard above the midnight traffic. My nerves shook under my goose-pimpled skin, forcing me to distract myself from what plans patched themselves together in my mind.
    I glanced to the nearby railings; they must have towered a metre or so above me, causing my head to tilt as I read the graffiti that smothered itself across the bars.
    “Emz nd Bekz 4 lyf”
    I cringed slightly at the idiocy that took the form of my name. Why did I write my name on the bridge? What was I, 12? Of course not. I did that two months back. I was love-drunk.
    Heck, I did say that this bridge has my name written all over it. I was right.
    Just as a smile caught my lips, she appeared.
    Unexpectedly, completely alone, she appeared from the shadows of the iron framework.
    “You’ve always had a habit of either being late, or being early, haven’t you?”
    “Got that right.”


    I was once told that love didn’t exist,
    That the butterflies in my stomach were in my imagination,
    I forgot those words on our first kiss:
    You triggered my revelation.
  16. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008
    Are the words in italics always your own creation? Some of them are damn beautiful D:

    So glad you finally updated. Not really sure what to think about Becky being there yet. I reeeaally hope they don't kick the bucket together or something. >_>
  17. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    You'll just have to wait and see. Thanks for reading.
    Yes, all phrases that are uncredited are my own creations. I'm glad you like them. [:

  18. Aura Goddess

    Feb 8, 2008
    Safest Haven
    Finally caught up with this and really, I love this. I agree with Cariad though. I'm really hoping they don't do something together.

    I love all of that so much.
  19. Emzy ♥ Gummi Ship Junkie

    Dec 11, 2008
    End Phase

    L is for the way you lash out at me.
    O is for the one person you let me see.
    V is for how you’re very, very scary.
    E is for how I feel so empty.

    Her eyes were different, somehow.
    Like she was tired, and wanted to get something off her mind. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, but noticing such a change in a person I hold so close to my heart is quite frightening. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but sadly, I was speechless. I could barely rasp a single breath of air before she grabbed me, and pressed her lips to mine.
    She was cold, so cold. I couldn’t comprehend what she was trying to prove with the kiss, or whether it was out of raw emotion that she longed for the contact we had made.
    Was this to prove she was real? To prove she still likes me as much as she did two months, one week, and three days ago? Was this act a pure compulsion, thriving on the love she once promised?
    “I’ve missed you, Becky.” I whispered as she let go, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She smiled at me, her eyes level with mine, as we remained the same height. Although I knew that she wore flats, and the soles of my trainers lifted me an inch or so, I still liked to believe we were the same. I like thinking we have things in common, even if it is lying to myself.


    I let her lead me as she held my hand, smiling as I gazed at the sky, and the stars that breathed through the night. It was a blissful moment, one that I hoped to never end.
    But all moments end, and their endings hit you smack-bang in the face when you least expect it. Kind of like an elastic band; when you pull it, pull it, and pull it until it snaps right back at you. It stings, you can’t get it back to what it was, and mostly, you really didn’t expect it to happen so suddenly.
    But I suppose that’s life, in the end.


    Have you ever listened to the clouds,
    As they whisper to the stars,
    They protect their small sparkles,
    And tell them how beautiful they are.


    The mismatched chimes of oncoming announcements awoke me from my sleep. It was dead in the lobby, without a single soul to pull me away from where I lay, lounged across several torn seats and a miniature coffee table. Becky was still at the ticket booth, registering our names with the old woman behind the computer. It seemed like I’d been out for a good hour, where in reality, it was mere minutes of eye closure. Like a pro-longed blink, so to speak.
    I could feel my eyelids closing once again, seeming far heavier than humanely possible. But still, I attempted to keep them open, and once again failed. This time, I was out for good.

    You’re a coward for running.

    I jumped from my position, only to slam the back of my head into the back of my makeshift bed. I was choking for air, staring around blankly as I straightened myself into an upright sitting position. Swallowing, I smiled as Becky approached me.
    “It will be here in about three minutes or so.”
    “You’re quiet, Emma...”
    “I’m just tired. I’ll be fine.”
    “Okay, it’s just-” Pausing, her gaze fixated itself on the tunnel several metres away. “Never mind, here’s our train. Are you ready?”

    ...Was I ready? It was quite a question. I didn’t know whether I was, despite the two months of thinking and planning I had endured, I was still considering the option of backing out completely.
    Was it right to run, run away and not return? Claim my own death, and the death of a loved one, all in hope of peace?

    I’m Emma. Of course I can do that.
    And I did.

    I took one step from the platform, to the train, and listened to the hiss of the closing metal doors behind me. Now I was free, I was free from everything that home had to offer, and open to the air of another new city. New sights, sounds, smells. New people. Everything.

    I was free, and nothing could stop me.


    Have you felt freedom?
    It’s smooth,
    Drips between your fingers like wax,
    And hardens at your feet.
    It catches all the words your mind has echoed,
    And places them in one obsolete sound,
    A sound that can never be heard,
    Never ignored,
    Never remembered,
    And yet never forgotten.
    Freedom is your best friend,
    And your worst enemy.
    It’s the drug that keeps you alive.
    It’s life.


    Authors Note: I took my time on finishing this, didn't I? Well, That's it, I suppose. I must thank the users Cariad, Aura, and Styx for the reviews. Support plays a large role in my confidence in writing, so thank you all for that.
    I hope you enjoyed this, and will look out for any future pieces I may post.

    Ciao <3
  20. Juicy Chaser

    May 29, 2008

    That was such a perfect ending D: I am so so relieved and happy that it ended that way <3 I am so very glad that she escaped. You are a gorgeous writer and I hope you continue to grace us with your stories. Wonderful.