agsawan
He was her muse. The one who inspired everything in her, but not the one she loved. Far from it. He was old, evil and grey. Grey in color, grey in his heart and soul. She didn't want him to be her muse, didn't choose him. If she had picked her muse, it would have been me. Her one true love, her confidant, her lover.
The clapping sounded like thunder to his ears. The auditorium erupted with screams and shouts, of "Hurrah, More!" He turned to face the crowd, sweat rolling down his back, his face, his chest. He had no more to give and yet they demanded it. Vicious in their need, their desire.
The lightning struck not, once, not twice but three times. Impossible, but true. He was jerked about like a catfish on the end of a fishing line. His eyes bulged out and his body flopped from side to side as the force of the electricity surged through his
The thought makes me ill. Physically sick. How could this happen? I run to the bathroom, clutching the note in my hand, my stomach heaves up, and I crouched over the toilet, vomiting. Afterwards, I lay on the cold tile, not crying, not moving.
Everyone had a skeleton in their closet. At least that is what her mother always told her...but she had meant it figuratively of course. This was real. There was a skeleton in her closet, and it was disturbing to say the least. She wasn't sure how to get rid of it. She certainly didn't want it to crumble, or break apart.
That was exactly the ticket she needed! The chance to get ahead, to succeed. Quickly she scurried down the ramp towards the train, waving her hand in the air. "Wait for me," She screamed! "Stop!" But, it was too late, the train chugged slowly out of the gate, its wheels making a sad, lonely, noise as it pulled away.
She was caught up in a plague of love. She couldn't forget him, nor could she stay with him. He burned through her skin, wreaking havoc on her body and her mind. All night she tossed and turned, trying to shake him loose from her head. She knew it was over, the end was near. There was no cure for this disease.
That was the last straw. The final piece that did her in. She was finshed, gone. Out of here. She heard his car in the driveway and grabbed the nearest bag. Opening her drawers she began to stuff it full of clothes, jamming her things down, deep and hard, until the bag was overflowing .
She was in lust with him. Not love, not like, just lust. She wanted to know him, physically, sexually. To be with him night and day, but she didn't want to know him intimately. That would ruin it all. Of this she was certain. Words, feelings would muck it all up. She just wanted to screw him, again and again. That was all.
She had failed miserably. Again. A big fat F was written right at the top of the paper. In red ink and circled. How could she tell her parents? Her dad would surely freak out. Her mom would tell her to go to her room and study. It was no use, she was dumb, stupid, retarded. Why didn't they see this?
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writing since 2011 · 55 entries · 52 days shown up
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