raix
My lover left me in a junkyard. One moment they were there and the next the only things surrounding me were twisted metal and rust. I've been wandering ever since, looking through oil drums and puddles of chemicals. feeling my way over rusted pipes and hardly decomposed plastic. I lost my way but I don't mind. The feeling of metal beneath my fingers helps me through.
He leant towards her, perfectly prepared to tell a lie. He'd never tasted truth upon his lips. And they parted to speak, words which filled him with shock.
"I was born in a new england village." The start of his life story, of his actual honest-to-goodness hometown. Well, there was still time to turn back now.
He used to walk up those steps every day. Something so small that he took for granted before. Now, they seemed impassable, like an everest sitting in his own house. He could only stare up at them and after but a moment, ring the bell for his attendant.
Lens Mills Store stretches out for miles. The building is not that big from the outside but once you are in it; there are rows and rows of all sorts of things. Clothing, food, garden and craft supplies. Once you get into the back - the fabric section - there are rolls upon rolls of any fabric you could be looking for. Some fabrics are so bizarre; it makes you wonder what people ever use them for.
The rain fell quietly around them. The sun was shining down over the land, cutting through the clouds. They were far from home, far from their element. But the land that sprawled before them could have been the same that they came from. Though this strange new world glistened with rainwater.
"Oh, I forgot to mention" I said looking up from the paper, "our lease is about to expire. What do you think of staying here another year?" it was just a passing comment, but she stopped and looked at me with discomfort.
"Actually, I was thinking about a smaller place..."
"But here is just the right size for the two of us."
"That's exactly what I mean..."
The box lay before her, carved from metal and not wood. A testament to the age they were living in. She had never opened it; never even tried. It had belonged to her mother, who'd wanted her to have it so badly. But she wouldn't even look at it, thinking of that woman who'd seen her hurt every day and turned a blind eye. Who'd done nothing to help.
You are a liar. You tell me things that you hope I'll believe and yet you don't realize I've seen through them all. You lie all the time, so much that your truths seem foreign and wrong. Your truths are more like lies than anything else you say. Why bother trying, I wonder each time you tell the truth; you'll just taint the next thing anyway. And yet, I always stick around hoping for more.
/Black velvet in that little boy's smile./ The song flooded through the speakers, every bit as creepy as I remember it being. Like a link to my past that I couldn't erase. It felt out of place in this dark bar, and yet as though it was home. A bad memory; which was welcome compared to no memory at all.
There was a little girl who used to live below my apartment, her name was Velvet. Her parents were successful - doctors or something. I wonder now why the even lived there; in the shady part of town. We would play together as kids, but the class gap was clear between us. She was well off and we were far from it. All we had in common was that apartment building.
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