PhoenixRoseQueen

PhoenixRoseQueen

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The cassette tape played as they drove down the highway, the wind blowing through the windows as they sang a long to the old songs. They weren't even particularly good songs, just songs that brought back the feelings of their youth -- of their childhood. When days seemed to go on forever and things were so much simpler. Back when their family was whole. Their dad's old tapes in their mom's old car... There was a feeling that made them want this moment forever.

tour

They took a tour of the castle. It was one of the first stops on the beginning of their world tour, the one that Chrysanthemum booked for them before she was called away by her parents. Zacky was minimally impressed with the layout of the place. It was just like he expected to be, typical, boring, and completely unoriginal. He didn't understand how their girl, their manager and his best friend had come from this place. Their girl was so much better than this. She had become so much more.

She cut the corners off of the square sheet cake, the four sides becoming eight. It was an experiment, perhaps she was trying to see if she could make the cake round instead. She kind of had lost her round cake pan a couple of weeks ago and hadn't gotten around to buying a new one. She was being a bit picky this time, she bought a cheap one last time.

Well, I'm sure that I already wrote for this word in the last twenty-four hours, she thought to herself when she opened the webpage. But it's a holiday, so the site runners might be a bit lazy today. So she glanced out the window, gathering her thoughts. It was a hailstorm coming towards her. Not outside, not literally, but figuratively.

Oh. this started. It was raining. Well, it was supposed to be raining. That's what the weather report had said anyway. But that wasn't what they got. What they got was ice. Large, hard, rock-solid balls of ice that shattered as they fell and made horrifying tapping noises on the windows. Ellen shivered listening to it.

The railroad path was long. Cut through a forest just outside of town. It marked the end of the city limits and the beginnings of where she was told very specifically where she could not go. If she wandered too far, she could end up lost to the fey.

wagon

The wagon was large, brown, plain wood. It was a bit old, splinters snapping off the sides, the inish not quite as smooth as it might have been when it was first built. Chris looked at it skeptically. She had never ridden in anything so dingy and unsophisticated in her enitre life.

She made the executive decision to run away. It was the best choice, really. she didn't want to become what they wanted her to be, but if she stayed she wouldn't have any other choice. It wasn't quite what her best friend was telling her to do, to deal with the situation. It was better. If she ran away, it all just disappeared, right?

so this won't be a story or anythin like that, more like a rant about feeling like I've downgraded my life or something. I had a lot of things going or me at some point. Like. Seriously. I was doing well.. But I've always had to rely on other people, and now I see where that's gotten me. But I'm still doing it, huh?

She continued to pound away at the wall, with no care for her fist or the flesh that was being scraped and bloodied in the process. Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Hell, let the wall DIE, she just wanted to stop feeling so HURT. She didn't want to feel so frustrated or scared or upset or angry or ANYTHING.

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writing since 2016 · 14 entries · 11 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Jasmine showed up.

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on this day 8 years ago

Jasmine wrote about wagon
“The wagon was large, brown, plain wood. It was a bit old, splinters snapping off the sides, the inish not quite as smooth as it might have been when it was first built. Chris looked at it skeptically…”

the words Jasmine reaches for

markedlargewordbitfeelingbestforestcakesongsschoollargerinstitutegreenbrickpretentiousnesswall