narurahatake
Meant to keep something out, or maybe something in. The only scary thing about them is figuring out which side you were on.
Vampires. Apparently they sparkle. God knows why. It attracts young girls, maybe. Or guys. Depending on your preference. Sparkly things used to be cool. But then Meyer just had to merge something originally badass with it. It's like milk and fries. I like milk, and I like fries. But I don't like them together. But the taste they left in my mouth was much better than the taste I got after reading Twilight. I fasted for a week. Screw you, Meyer. Screw you. The only reason why her book is popular is because Belle is such a blank board that even a duck can identify with her. The things that happened to Belle were generally the things every girl wants: attention, excitement, and the love of Mr. Perfect. Add some flaws that are barely flaws if you actually think about it, and viola. Instant no-hope-for-this-generation. No hope at all.
I was born in a trunk. At least, my very first memory was in one. It was cramped, my birthplace, and dark except for one sliver of light. Just a long horizontal crack right in front of my face. I couldn't move; my limbs were numb. The air was heavy and hot, rich with the smell of something like rust. The carpet lined walls around me were damp and stained with something I can not place a name to.
I did not know my name, I did not know anything. I was empty but did not know that either. How could I feel the loss of knowledge when I've never tasted it? I knew my surrondings, but I did not know their names. I knew I had hands, but I didn't know they were hands. But what I did know, loud and clear, was that I had to survive. Although I may not know it's name, I still knew fear very well, and fear was what accompanied me when I fell into the crack that broke my shell.
When I heard the word estate, I said, "What, you mean a big giant mansion or something?" Then he stared at me with a look that clearly questioned my sanity, and maybe my parentage. I would stare back while spouting questions like, "What? Am I wrong? So what's an estate, really? WHAT?" and all the while he would continue to silently judge my IQ points right in front of me. I really hated when he did that. If I didn't know what a word meant or understand the concept that is "common sense," he would always act as if I should of known. That as if all the basic knowledge of humankind was suppose to be automatically inserted in my brain at birth. But someday, I swear, I'm going to show that boy that he doesn't know everything in the world. Maybe with a brick in each hand. That asshole.