n0morenice
The first night at the house was a fairly productive one. Lots of chatter, first impressions, and latenight talking.
Anna turned the small globe over in her hands and watched the plastic snow fall. Her shopping trips didn't normally include picking up such silly knickknacks, but there was always something about snow globes that made her hone in on them-- this one contained a Russian inspired
This was becoming pointless; Jack rubbed his forehead, focusing the pressure in between his eyes to the bridge of his nose. He’d been sitting in the same position trying to think for at least twenty minutes—which felt like seven hours—with little to no success. This the foremost torture of a true artist, all this ability and not a drop of creativity to spare! His mind was drawing blank after blank and it was getting more annoying than he could stand. No pranks, no injuries caused, and no contact from his “employers” in weeks. This school was sucking the soul right out of him. Before he knew it he might actually start being a normal teenager and, frankly, that was something he just refused to stand for.
He tried scribbling some jokes, something to throw the stupid campaign business in to a tangle, starting another fire in the powers building… all of which ended up in balled up scraps on the floor of the study room excepts for a few stick drawings of classmates in compromising predicaments and two of the jokes. At least he could still rely on finding himself unbelievable hilarious to himself before he simply frowned and calmly flipped the table he was working at on to its side. He sighed, leaning back to balance on two legs of his chair; eyes cast down on the messy room in front of him. “Well, that didn’t help at all.” Jack knocked the back of his head against the wall repeatedly. “Please, anybody, save me from this abysmal cavity of boredom and dry material.”
This was becoming pointless; Jack rubbed his forehead, focusing the pressure in between his eyes to the bridge of his nose. He’d been sitting in the same position trying to think for at least twenty minutes—which felt like seven hours—with little to no success. This the foremost torture of a true artist, all this ability and not a drop of creativity to spare! His mind was drawing blank after blank and it was getting more annoying than he could stand. No pranks, no injuries caused, and no contact from his “employers” in weeks. This school was sucking the soul right out of him. Before he knew it he might actually start being a normal teenager and, frankly, that was something he just refused to stand for.
He tried scribbling some jokes, something to throw the stupid campaign business in to a tangle, starting another fire in the powers building… all of which ended up in balled up scraps on the floor of the study room excepts for a few stick drawings of classmates in compromising predicaments and two of the jokes. At least he could still rely on finding himself unbelievable hilarious to himself before he simply frowned and calmly flipped the table he was working at on to its side. He sighed, leaning back to balance on two legs of his chair; eyes cast down on the messy room in front of him. “Well, that didn’t help at all.” Jack knocked the back of his head against the wall repeatedly. “Please, anybody, save me from this abysmal cavity of boredom and dry material.”
It wasn't a great venture, but it was one he made everyday. Coffee was his initial goal, but his motives changed the morning he saw her sweeping spilled beans just in front of the back store door.
Life has a way of telling us not when where to go or what to do, but when were in the right place. I like looking for these hints because it tells me my errors and my hardships are what I'm meant to be doing. I can only hope that this means I'm on the course to inner peace and self-actualization.
She turned around to face the door. It looked just like it had her entire life, dark and wooden. She knew when each crack to the frame appeared. And she knew which ones she had put there. It'd been 14 years since she'd been home and Jan didn't know is she was ready to be back just yet.
The coat was just lying there. It hadn't been touched in years just shoved to the back of the closet. It was covered in fake jewels that had been dulled, picked at and broken.
In my life friendship has always been this dividing line of me caring and going to great lengths for people, emotional support when I really needed to be doing other things, drives to be there for someone at three in the morning, and of other people not giving a damn about me other than how I can benefit them. Some how this parasitic need is what fuses me with those I say are the closes to me. Some how, it forces me to smile and plead for someones sanity with the full knowledge that they're planning to repay me with a kick in the teeth.
It was a bit ridiculous, really. It made no sense to Curse why her name needed to be Curse, why she needed a mask, and why she needed a ridiculous costume. This was not what she signed up for.
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